Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. ‘She knows them. His name is Taber?" "Howard Taber.
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