"Your sympathy is being wasted. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful. “I was hoping to be able to secure a few minutes’ conversation with you, Miss Pellissier. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun.
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