“I love your sister. ‘See that writing table? Go and look in the drawer there. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. She has never done a really ignoble thing that I know of— never. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him.
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