Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. \"He's good-looking. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. "Hear me!" cried Thames, bursting into tears. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. I’ve been wondering where she got her dogged will, and that hot-headed adventurous spirit, for it wasn’t from either Mary or Nicholas, that’s sure. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish.
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