" "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. ‘Merci, Joan,’ cried Melusine, moving to her and seizing her hand which she clasped between both her own for a moment, as she turned to the others. The area in front of the jail was completely filled. . The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination.
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