She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. ‘Merci, dieu. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. " The lad made no answer, but left the room. They WERE, she realized, acutely beautiful things.
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