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" "My penance forbids it," said Trenchard, waving his hand. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. “I was born there. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. Easily. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way.
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