Nicholas had not dared to tell his father about the Valade girl. It’s only as if I’d begun to know you the day before yesterday or there-abouts. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. I also have eyes, and I have seen the picture. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth.
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