Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. But this was long ago. He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. ’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. Compared to most of America, you’re rich. ’ Mrs Sindlesham shook with laughter. The place to which you went was not the English Embassy, and the whole performance was a fraud.
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