’ ‘You certain? She’s a thought too volatile for my money. ‘Perhaps I could indeed rescue you if only you would confide in me. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you. For a nun at night it is less dangerous than for the jeune demoiselle. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. . But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year.
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