The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. "To be sure he has!" returned Mrs. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. ‘Seems to me, missie, as you’re as dangerous a female as I’m like to see. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman.
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