"I disown you. ” 209 Clotilde was no fool. She would marry him. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. "I can readily see," he said, "why you'll always be as poor as a church mouse. "I could not believe you capable of so foul a deed. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. —Give me the letters, my love," she added aloud, and in her most winning accents; "they're some wicked forgeries. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. ‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand.
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