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 good-natured and perhaps envious interest. And presently, their money all spent and their faces brown and rosy from the sun, they returned to Paris.

Edward will never forget that vacation. If it did have its sinful sides, it had a glory of warmth and color and perfume and tenderness which almost compensated. His conscience didn't trouble him much at the time—indeed, all that did trouble him was the possibility of a chance meeting with the Ruggles—and it doesn't trouble him much now.

And be it said for conscience's sake that before leaving Paris the impetuous and generous youth had begged Anne to marry him and she had refused. Her reasons for refusing were excellent. She was already married. But what had become of her husband was another matter. She did not know. Nobody knew.

On the way to Corsica and on the way back, and during the whole of their stay on that exquisite island, she had behaved beautifully. There had been no tempers and no fault-findings. And they might have gone on being happy an indefinite period of time.

An accumulation of letters which Edward found waiting for him, however, so hurt his peace of mind that happiness was no longer possible.