Anna leaned forward, watching the people in the streets. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. You tell me he didn't like the stuff. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other.
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