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I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. ” He kissed her, and handed her into the carriage. The two lovers sat together, and their sole discourse turned upon Jack and his ill-fated mother. Dinner consisted of three courses. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. You may go back, Marthe. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere.
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