Yet before she turned once more to resume her flight she schooled herself with an effort to look where it had happened. “I wrote it for you. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. ‘What is this fate?’ ‘Un mariage of no distinction. He smiled grandly; she could feel the radiance of his approval from across the wedding table. .
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