It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. “I loathe afternoon concerts, and——” She was really like her sister he thought, impressed for a moment by the soft brilliancy of her smile. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly. The action did not pass unnoticed by Sheppard.
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