The latter haughtily returned his salutation, and flung himself, as if exhausted, into a chair. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. There was a hint of tears in her voice. Women are not in the world in the same sense that men are—fighting individuals in a scramble. He did like her, anyhow; he was always pleased to be with her. “Just fine. ‘He had run away with a Frenchwoman, you see, but Everett Charvill—I refer to the general—took care to conceal the matter. "The pocket-book you prigged contained the letters I wanted. Plote was sleeping or deaf. I am so much obliged to you for your projected benevolence.
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