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‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. Get a license—just an idea of mine. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. " She kindled with sympathy. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. Her favor was sought beyond all women’s favors. It was as if he could smell it on her. And yet she knew it was not fair to call her a foolish girl.
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