. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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