By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. Your father has forbidden you to go!’” “Well?” “She said, ‘I hate being horrid to you and father, but I feel it my duty to go to that ball!’” “Felt it her duty!” “‘Very well,’ I said, ‘then I wash my hands of the whole business. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald.
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