Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. “I admired your sister in Paris,” he answered, “but I do not believe that I regard her now as altogether the same person. . ” “That settles it. . "Well, Sir?" cried the other, eagerly. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired.
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