It is like a second honeymoon. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features.
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