“I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. ‘To what do you go, mademoiselle? The life of a nun in a convent, in a country where nuns are unwelcome.
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