" Miserably his thoughts shuttled to and fro in search of what he knew she wanted —a love story. She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. “There is something which I must say to you. ‘You know perfectly well that she is the daughter of the Comtesse de St Erme. ” “Yes, but you forget; how am I to live?” “Easily. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. “In any case you will never receive any different sort of answer from me.
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