"Mr. ’ ‘You mean Valade? Certainly not. As Leonardo had himself pronounced, who better than a mountebank to teach of the perils awaiting the unwary? Who better than a wastrel to demonstrate the worth of thrift? And who could instruct better in the matter of affections than one who had thrown them away? ‘If he had loved me,’ she said, in the flat tone she had learned to use to conceal her vulnerable heart, ‘he would have left me at Remenham House to live a life of an English lady. The last that is known of Monsieur Charvill is when he departed the Valade estate. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. " On a shelf was placed a row of paint-jars; the contents of which had been daubed in rainbow streaks upon the adjacent closet and window sill. Her formerly brown hair was dyed a white shade of blonde. Fascination.
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