"And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped. ” He rolled his eyes, trying 190 to conceal pride. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured.
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