‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. “Then we go on to this place, the Oeschinensee. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him.
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