“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. " She had no reason to doubt him. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. She spoke slowly. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. But in that case, why the raging jealousy about Madame having taken her place. 47 was no more than a sort of railway compartment on the way to that. Father— dead.
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