” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Capes and her father stood up, and her father made a belated movement toward the curtain. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it.
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