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. There had been fusses and scenes dimly apprehended through half-open doors. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. She indicated the captain who had retired behind the sofa. "Going to befuddle himself between now and dinner," was the comment of Prudence.
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