But what did the occupant of the box care? The laugh was always with the dead: they were out of the muddle. But I mustn't think of these things, or I shall grow mad. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. “Well?” “You and all the rest of them are always lamenting that I do not marry. Stanley in person.
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