132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. Gazing at her with eyes blinded with tears, he imprinted one brotherly kiss upon her lips. You have been to see your sister, of course. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. She broke this promise when she told me that my mother was this Mary, and not Suzanne Valade at all. If I had been quite quiet and white and dignified, wouldn’t it have been different? Would he have dared?. ” “What!” he asked; “not a kiss?” She affected not to hear.
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