She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. It did so well that they sold it in the nineties. “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. ’ ‘Very good, ma’am. “No, I’m fine.
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