There’s no logic in these things. I struck him across the face, jumped out and went back by train to Paris. “Nice sleeve,” she said, and came to his hand and kissed it. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence. “You frighten me!” He smiled at her indulgently. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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