’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. She became angry with herself. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. Your lamented mother, whose loss I shall ever deplore, perceived my passion and encouraged it. He had not had time to aim the pistol. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying.
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