Thus, all her interest in life began to centre upon the patient, who was apparently quite as anchorless as she was. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie. Her name was Rhea.
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