He seemed to stay away from her because she was so cold and formal towards him, addressing him as Mister McCloskey as if she were an Irish maid. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. It was really very nice of you, but to-morrow you will laugh at it as I do now. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. ’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. "Or trying to be," answered the doctor. The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. Don’t be frightened, dear. There is no other way. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. His manner was deferential, even eager.
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