It is Thérèse. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Instead, he could not get beyond these minor details—why she wore the dress, whence she had come, and whither she was bound. \"I don't eat lunch.
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