" He laughed and pushed back his chair. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. ‘Monsieur Charvill,’ pursued Valade, ‘has left the chateau, and since we have heard from him nothing at all, but for the letters to his daughter from Italy. Mother had met with him two years before to begin the process of finding a match. He walked her home. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that.
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