‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. Curiosity held her by one hand, urging her to recklessness, and caution held her by the other. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. If you live, well and good; if you die, well and good. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more.
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