For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. He seemed to know a great deal about life. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. ‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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