‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. It’s a lake among precipices, and there is a little inn where we can stay, and sit and eat our dinner at a pleasant table that looks upon the lake. “I rue the day I ever met you, Sebastianus. It is a very good English name, no? But who is she?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, I should say,’ said Mrs Ibstock, correcting herself.
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