It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. He stood still, almost breathless. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. ‘Very well, arrest me. " CHAPTER XV.
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