‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. ‘Dieu du ciel, but answer me!’ Martha’s eyes were swimming again, and she reached out. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. And Teddy declared himself ready to go to the ends of the earth for her, and carry her luggage all the way.
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