“Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. He reached over and took her hand. Mere hangers on. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. The first of these, whom he addressed as Mr. “Of course!” he said. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. ” He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog.
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