“Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. Already she missed all of her fine things, her linens and leather bound books. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything. He looked exactly as she had dreamed him, handsome, rigidly dressed in a black suit, his hair still half gray, his eyes green and flashing like a cat’s. ‘But you will not be in a convent. You remember that you saw us at the Savoy a few evenings ago?” “Yes.
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