So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. Madame Valade was that kind of woman. The poor things! Oh, it was quite dreadful. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. The joke of it is that he’s married to her now, and cuts me dead.
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