“I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. I suppose I believe in God. It mattered not whether she flunked the year as she would soon be gone. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. Have we not received Lady Bicknacre just this morning? Not to mention the Comtesse de St Erme.
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