And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. The swellings appeared under her arms and a general panic spread through the Palazzo. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song.
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