And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. ” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. Here a little delay occurred. I've a question to ask him. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. When she came to herself, she found that her brother had quitted the room, leaving her to the care of a female attendant.
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