Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. Spurlock felt very well pleased with himself. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. She was no longer there. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. “It is possible, mademoiselle,” he said, “that this affair is not yet ended.
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