Valade stood his ground, holding the doorjamb, and facing up to the general. . May I do so to-day?” “It’s your gate,” she said, amiably; “you got it first. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. His French is better than mine, so he knew exactly what he was handling.
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