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Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. "Try!" Enraged at the assurance of his mistress, the woollen-draper endeavoured to carry his threat into execution, but all his efforts to remove her were unavailing. . Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. “I remember it very well indeed. ‘I suppose you think I can’t manage it myself,’ had complained Captain Roding sarcastically. Of course, he had no idea who I was.
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