She stopped eating. As Jack departed, a dark figure, emerging from behind a wall, rushed after him. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true.
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