“Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. I was born of one Suzanne Valade and an Englishman, Nicholas Charvill. “I’m inclined to think, Stanley, myself that as a matter of fact it was the expurgated Romeo and Juliet did the mischief. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period.
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