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I've told you about him; and you wrote a shrewd yarn on the subject. What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested. " "It's a queer girl. ” He was bereft of words for a moment, and in that moment she escaped, having passed him on deftly to one of the later arrivals. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being.
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