Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. That for the men lay near the Lodge, with which it was connected by a dark passage. In an instant, she turned on him. His absence was thought by the charitable to be from grief. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe.
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