‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. Still—” Then, with incredible and obviously deliberate stupidity, and a voice as flat as her own, he asked, “Who is the man?” Her spirit raged within her at the dumbness, the paralysis that had fallen upon her. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort.
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