. Her cogitations were dissipated by a knock on the door. The arrival of la tante Prudence late next day had changed all this, it is true. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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