It was never intended that I should marry Monsieur Valade, but after the tragedy—’ her eyes darkening in genuine distress ‘—and that he was the only survivor, he came to me in the convent and married me, and brought me to England. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again. The following morning found him in the doctor's waiting room, a black cigar turning unlighted in his teeth. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. Last night there had been no time. "Mr. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library.
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