A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. ” He smiled, and she felt love for him in that moment as the smile lit up his ebony eyes, eyes whose blackness seemed unfathomable. Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe. I don’t suppose a girl can tell if a man is in love with her or not in love with her. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. ” He shook his head slowly, smiling mysteriously. ‘Quite mad, nuns are.
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