Fire; she was full of it. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. ‘She’s gone. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. ” “And in Paris——” “In Paris,” he interrupted, “she was a very delightful companion, but beyond that —one did not take her seriously. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade.
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