” She shivered. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. She smiled encouragingly, laying aside her plate and turning her chair from the table. . The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. For a nun at night it is less dangerous than for the jeune demoiselle. The doctor smoked his pipe thoughtfully. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor.
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