” “Damn!” he remarked at the defaced letter; and, taking a fresh sheet, he recopied what he had written. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. “This has almost killed your father. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. And they had an idea of what men were like behind all their nicety. This mitigated her remorse enormously. ’ ‘The word of whom?’ came scoffingly from the pretty lips. I could not dream of loving you.
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