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. We’d soon cool that temper of yours. “Please play something for us,” Carol asked, her eyes aglow. “I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet.
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