A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose. "It is your son. “How fortunate I am, Miss Pellissier! All day I have been hoping that I might run across you. " Thus urged, the damsels began to raise their voices in loud lamentation.
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