Niente. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Was she so fearful still? Roding shrugged and grimaced. Hartford had a very respectable sound. There is nothing but your pride which stands between us. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there.
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