The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. Now let us forget it. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. CONTENTS. G.
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