"Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. "Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it. “How unkind!” she exclaimed.
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