Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. “Mr. "Dead!" echoed the boy. Beautiful sculptures of sugar and almond paste decorated the long tables, delicate replicas of flowers and miniature animals, even a small Palazzo sculpted from cakes graced the table. “You don’t want to go?” “No. Ruth's arm trembled and her step faltered, but he was too far away in thought to be observant.
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