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‘My papa he does not wish me to marry the man I choose, and thus he places me in the convent that the nuns may lock me up and I cannot escape. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. I bent over him. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. Why should God give particular attention to such a prayer, when He had ignored all others? Certainly there was a trap somewhere. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. He lit a cigarette and loitered about.
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