He moaned. 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. But I'm resolved to see Lady Trafford. "Ah!" exclaimed Wild, looking angrily towards his supposed attendant. I am out of your life forever, never having been in it.
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