It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. Laughed at me, then. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. ‘Do you know, Mademoiselle Charvill, you are a thought too clever for your own good. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand.
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