’ ‘Not, I trust, Nicholas Charvill?’ ‘Hardly. "May I beg to know whom I've the pleasure of adressing? Jackson, I conclude, is merely an assumed name. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent.
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