It is not at all comme il faut. "I understand," she said. “Then why go out with him, Michelle? Why belabor yourself?” Lucy questioned. "Here we part,—perhaps for ever. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter. They telephoned that you had absconded with ten thousand, and that if I would make good the loss within twenty-four hours, they would not prosecute. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. He was profoundly stirred. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent.
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