Madame Valade was that kind of woman. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. She was not allowed to bathe herself: another prisoner, with a privileged manner, washed her. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed.
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