It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. He held in his hands many threads. He had brought her here to this place—where her freedom was curtailed even more than at the convent so that a cavalier was very much needed—and only on Monday came again. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. But her mind was ruffled, and its mirror-like surface of satisfaction was not easily restored.
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