I loved her and made love to her, and I don’t think she quite loved me back in the same way. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. It was not for a week or a month. Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade.
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