’ ‘What of your grandfather?’ Her lips parted in surprise. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. ‘But you will not be in a convent. I might utter a million, and still I doubt if I could make you understand. You may have to carry them further and longer than you think. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. Not even, it seemed, this interfering monsieur le major. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. A brief calm succeeded.
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