She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. “When are you going away?” He asked. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. "But I am now coming to the point which most concerns you. "I am too much honoured—too happy in the union. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. What had urged her to wrench loose and fly was the guarding instinct of the good woman.
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