" "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Only she is not Madame Valade at all. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. Austin. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood.
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