It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. She replied, “I don’t care to draw attention to myself, Michelle. He lives in constant dread of a reappearance of ‘La Belle Alcide,’ and hearing it said that she is his wife’s sister. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. Don’t, don’t say anything now, not anything. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally.
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