‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. When mistress took and died—’ Joan broke off and sighed, moving away to the window. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. “Why?” he asked, suavely. ‘You had better kill me, mademoiselle, because otherwise I shall end by strangling you. You will stop at once. He gave you a poison. The rest of the crowd followed suit with weak laughter.
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