Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers. She looked at her flattened belly. I'd a good many things to say to you, besides—but you've put them all out of my head.
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