‘Come, mademoiselle. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. You make me angry, and I lie. She covered herself with her arms. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice.
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