She cried and sobbed in fits. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. The chair was torture. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. As sure as you're sitting there, Mr.
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