" The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. ‘Because I love you. But this was a vicomte’s sister. His glance came up again and met hers. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear.
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