She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. ’ ‘Of course she could not have known to whom they belonged. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. .
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