“Please forgive me, Lucy. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. 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. In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone. It was warm, shielding, comforting, and what was more, full of understanding. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. Before an hour had elapsed, the concourse was fearfully increased. “Lord!” she said.
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