He slid out of her. It appeared he had already ordered dinner and wine, and the whiskered waiter waved in his subordinate with the soup forthwith. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. ‘And it may interest you to know, mademoiselle, that the first thing Gerald must needs do on reaching town is to rush off to that convent of yours to make sure you were safe. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. She entered and approached the bunk.
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