. .yes. . .quite easily. . .and. . .
besides. . .what connection could there be between her exquisite dandy
of a husband, with his fine clothes and refined, lazy ways, and the
daring plotter who rescued French victims from beneath the very eyes
of the leaders of a bloodthirsty revolution?
Her thoughts were in a whirl--her mind a blank. . .She did not
see anything that was going on around her, and was quite startled when
a fresh young voice called to her across the garden.
"CHERIE!--CHERIE! where are you?" and little Suzanne,
fresh as a rosebud, with eyes dancing with glee, and brown curls
fluttering in the soft morning breeze, came running across the lawn.
"They told me you were in the garden," she went on prattling
merrily, and throwing herself with a pretty, girlish impulse into
Marguerite's arms, "so I ran out to give you a surprise. You did not
expect me quite so soon, did you, my darling little Margot CHERIE?"
Marguerite, who had hastily concealed the ring in the folds of
her kerchief, tried to respond gaily and unconcernedly to the young
girl's impulsiveness.
"Indeed, sweet one," she said with a smile, "it is delightful
to have you all to myself, and for a nice whole long day.
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