My only love is for my poor lost son. I was grateful. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. " "I have no people—anybody who would care. " "I have promised. ” “Won’t you postpone the attempt, then?” he said gallantly, “until I have done something to deserve your gratitude? You will not forget—seven-thirty, Café Maston, Boulevard des Italiennes. I don’t care what else there is in the world. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him.
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