“I suppose all life is an affair of chances. Martin came to the door, looking radiant and relieved. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. You will obey me out of common decency. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful.
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