A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. “You poor thing. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. It is very important because I have lost my proof. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. Dinner was served at 5:30. The solemn strokes were immediately answered by a multitude of chimes, sounding across the Thames, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable.
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