He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Until Leonardo. I wrenched this off, and in an envelope addressed to me in faded ink, I found the locket and the pearls. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. I have done n-nothing. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. ” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake.
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