Mr. 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. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. Things you would laugh at. A piece of old blanket was fastened across her shoulders, and she had no other clothing except a petticoat. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely.
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