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“Katy Pfister. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. ’ She paused, holding her nurse’s eyes. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. In Hamilton Place that is, like I told you before, miss. . I will always think of you with fondness, no matter what. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. ‘My wife would say she is English a little. “Diedermayer’s a kiss-ass. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own.
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