This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. They got in my mouth. She was the first to recover herself. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face.
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