The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. For that such a man does not mind about the dowry, he must be in love en désespoir.
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