" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. From me. ‘You will have to prove it, you know,’ Gerald said quietly. Only she is not Madame Valade at all. She was radiant. He donned his winter coat. Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. All the rest is humbug and delicacy.
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