“My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. You’re of age— you’re of age. . I struck him across the face, jumped out and went back by train to Paris. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding. ‘I don’t want no gold! Not for serving my mistress.
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