That he received guests of the name of Valade at all would have surprised anyone who knew his history. “A wonderful piece of work,” he declared. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. He was not used to not getting his way. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes.
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