She loved him. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. There was a stain of wine upon her dress. Only in her eyes there seemed to be some apprehension of the fact that the young man’s clothes and manners were alike undesirable things. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain.
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