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And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. “Is this hansom for me?” she said. He was a London man of business, spending a small legacy in Paris. His chin was angular and his lips were 16 small, his mouth tiny and refined. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. "How goes it?" he began, heartily. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. If you choose to requite me by detaining me, you are at liberty to do so.

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