‘Jacques?’ ‘No. She was ashamed of herself for the simple gladness she felt wash over her as the infant’s screams ended. "The lash cuts to the bone. Your life is like a funeral March. I want to get away. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne. And Charcam, fearful of another charge in his master's present uncertain mood, disappeared. But then, because my papa had no money, you understand, he sent me to a convent.
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