She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. I thought Bess would have cried her pretty eyes out when she heard you was nabbed. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago.
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