” She smiled. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. He kept that, but the rest. I have but to give a hint of that boy's existence in the proper quarter, and his life will not be worth a day's purchase.
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