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What!— you know so little of that child? She ran away from you. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. CHAPTER XXIII. ‘Eh bien, Eugénie. Ramage, and might describe the affair to him, she cried “Oh!” with renewed vexation, and repeated some steps of her dance in a new and more ecstatic measure. 8 or 1. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses.
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