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"I shall answer that question. Dr. Etwald," he said, loudly. "Miss Dallas shall not and can not marry you. She has promised to be my wife." "Never, madame, never pour vous. Ravissant, charmant—it is too foolish. Nevair! Jamais, jamais de la vie!" I had to calm her down, and she bowed over my hand when we parted. "Have they anything to do with the death of Maurice?".
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Elinor glanced beyond, through the low doorway to the next room. The two young men burst out simultaneously with the speech in tones of sheer astonishment, and stared at Etwald as at some strangle animal. That this elderly man--Etwald was midway between thirty and forty, but that looked elderly to these boys of twenty-five--should dare to love Isabella Dallas, was a thing unheard of. She so young, so beautiful, so full of divine youth and diviner womanhood; he so sombre, pale and worn with intellectual vigils; with a mysterious past, a doubtful present and a problematic future. "What are you two conspirators hatching up over there in the corner?" called Bruce from the fireside. "We're making out our schedule, and you don't know what you're missing!" The bed was empty--the corpse was gone..
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