One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Both Spurlock and McClintock stood by their chairs until she was gone.
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