She ought to have written at once and told him exactly what had happened. My only love is for my poor lost son. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. ‘When we met probably, and you threatened me at the first. And who is the man you are not allowed to marry? Valade, perhaps?’ ‘Dieu du ciel,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up.
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