’ ‘Parbleu,’ exclaimed the girl, jumping up in some dudgeon. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. "Where?" "That can wait," she answered. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. He had grabbed her in the stream, embracing her naked body tightly, running his hands over her breasts and clutching her buttocks. "I need not ask whether this is Mr.
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