"Perhaps," replied Wood, doubtfully. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. “My mom is making duck. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. But this was long ago. E. Here was a thundering blow. net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) ANNA THE ADVENTURESS By E.
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