‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. These and her general preparations had perhaps a certain disproportion. The man looked closely at Anna as she crossed the footway, and as he held her skirt from the wheel he pressed something into her hand. . “I can see you and Anna groaning and nodding your grave heads together. Today you shall promise me that you will pull no more of these stunts.
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