Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. “I—I didn’t love the man I was engaged to,” she said. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. Goopes, who had at first been a little reserved, resorted presently to the Socratic method to restrain the young man with the orange tie, and bent his forehead over him, and brought out at last very clearly from him that the body was only illusion and everything nothing but just spirit and molecules of thought. Anyhow, there it is: YOU ARE NOT GOING THERE. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. “What made you marry him? What made you leave Paris without a word to any one? What made you and your sister exchange identities?” “There is one answer to all those questions, Nigel,” she said, with a nervous little shudder. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly.
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