“It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. ‘I think you know my affianced husband. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. Had he not said so? Not that she wished him to marry her. Almost light-heartedly. She told him the story of her parents, her marriage to Iovelli, the loss of her baby, the kidnapping after the miscarriage.
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