Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. ‘You don’t know him. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. He gripped the window-sill behind him. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes.
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