Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. ” Ann Veronica meditated over that phrase. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened.
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