It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. Manning had shown on previous occasions that he found Ann Veronica interesting and that he wished to interest her. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground.
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