That was supposed to be Madame Valade. “But I am judge of that,” said Manning. She was pensive and thoughtful. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure.
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