“I didn’t know Mr. You don’t happen to know of any one, I suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a clerk—without shorthand—or a tryer-on, or a copyist, or——” “For Heaven’s sake stop, Miss Pellissier,” he interrupted. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. Parbleu, but she was a fool. When she awoke, the sun was high in Heaven.
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