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. " "It's mine, I'll be sworn," rejoined Wood. Why were you following Valade?’ She shrugged and turned away, moving as if to seek escape among the bookshelves all about one corner of the room. Each one had been different from the others, each had had a quality all its own, a distinctive freshness, a distinctive beauty.
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