“Idiot!” She raged inwardly while she walked along with that air of self-contained serenity that is proper to a young lady of nearly two-and-twenty under the eye of the world. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. Her face reminded him of a delicate unglazed porcelain cup, filled with blond wine. He understood now that it was a part of her inheritance. He called a waiter. ’ ‘Pah! You can never be Valade. He pulled away. I’ve never seen her quite so sure of herself.
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