“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence. B. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. In his youth he must have been a remarkably handsome man, for he is still handsome. “I am a fool,” he said. I ought to have gone long ago. "I beg pardon," he said.
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