“Cheveney!” she repeated. “But I still think of my old foster brothers and sisters. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. She sprang to her feet and stood listening with parted lips and eager eyes. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily.
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