“It’s—private. “I’m still new to them. "You won't refuse it, Mr. ‘She would not tell me. They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. In twenty minutes we meet in the hall, remember. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true.
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