He screamed in pain, doubling over with a howl as she stumbled out of the bed. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. The knight mechanically complied with his request. "Good-bye, Mac.
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