’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest.
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