She had just this moment past told him that Monsieur Valade came to her after the tragedy, to the convent, from where he married her and brought her to England. She approached a soft-looking bespectacled girl she had seen once in the halls and noticed for her haunted look. After that consolations fled. She came to spend hours with the bastard children that the women brought, dressing and feeding the tiny ones, inventing games for the older ones. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. They had got all this down already—they heard the substance of it now for the fourteenth time. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me. The subject matter was generally worthless, but the handling was well done.
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