‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. “Come on. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. Her prevailing effect was one of quiet and complete assurance, as though she knew all about everything, and was only restrained by her instinctive delicacy from telling what she knew. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action.
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