In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. The theme was a masquerade. ” “It was an inspiration—your speaking to him?” “I felt impudent. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. He looked no longer at his wife. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. " "You hear that," whispered Jack. " "Don't mention such a thing, Sir," interrupted the tapstress. It was just such a bedroom as she would have chosen for herself. They had changed identities absolutely.
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