‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. Having only seen him in the gloom of a dungeon, and loaded with fetters, Kneebone had not noticed this alteration: but he was now greatly struck by it. No doubt she was wondering what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now. He pushed her back forcefully into her seat with his lips, his body automatically responding to her kiss.
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