Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. 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. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung.
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