‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. I believed that our marriage was genuine. We are not altogether strangers, are we? I feel that under the circumstances I have the right to offer you my advice, and if necessary my help. “Yes, I see that. I sha'n't cry any more. “I should like you to come here,” she said. The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. “Where am I?” he muttered.
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