" "Iss, missis," grinned the black. ” He drew a little nearer to her. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. He lowered himself onto her and entered her slowly, an inch at a time. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. Briefly, with a careless wave towards the couple, the comtesse presented them as Monsieur and Madame Valade.
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