‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. . He unhooked it from the front clasp. Taking hold of the hilt of his own foil, he drew it forth. " Mrs. \"Okay, all right, no better time than the present. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. "No," replied Jonathan, moodily. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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