Her breath came fast in little sobbing pants. ’ He flushed. “I love you, you know. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. That was the Frenchie, Valade, surely. He seemed to possess a penetration and cunning beyond his years—to hide a man's judgment under a boy's mask. Their minds are turned against him. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life.
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