He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. “We will take it then,” he said, “that you have refused or ignored one request I have made you this morning. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently.
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