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Louis the Fourteenth yet lived, and expectations were, therefore, indulged of assistance from France. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. But they cut it all off. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. "Look at him!" Ruth looked. Who is the beautiful intruder? And why does she disguise herself as a nun? Why is she involved in an enterprise both foolhardy and dangerous? The girl’s accent suggests an émigré but Mademoiselle insists she is English. "God forgive me for using such a word!" he cried, in a troubled tone; "if I hadn't yielded to my wife's silly request, this wouldn't have happened!" CHAPTER VII. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. I should have known at a glance if it was. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. ‘Then let her keep her Frenchified titles to herself.
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