" "As in a dream. The comtesse always felt Madame Valade to be not of her class, of course. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. His eyes were bright, and his voice had in it an unaccustomed timbre. “Before I took up the Suffrage,” a firm, flat voice remarked, “I could scarcely walk up-stairs without palpitations.
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