‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. His eyes never left her face. He smothered a laugh. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her.
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