She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. Neither did his interest,—which was by no means inconsiderable,—nor his general popularity, procure him the preferment he desired. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. They would arrest him for the French spy they had thought her at first. “Allow me,” the doctor said, “to give you a word of advice, Miss Pellissier. She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before.
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