In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. After several vain attempts to burst it open, he resolved, as a last alternative, to break through the wall in the part nearest to the lock. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier.
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