" Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. “It was the night you left Paris. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. ’ ‘But, Marthe, you do not imagine that I would have taken the veil like you, even if you have not told me.
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