I don’t want to hear you. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. She felt herself shaking again. The soi-disant Valade held the centre of the room now, only an uncovered but closed card-table, its surface dusty, between him and the suite at the fireplace. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere. But probably not the truth.
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