“Hi, hun,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.Sue returned the kiss, then pulled back a touch. “Harry, I want you to meet a friend of mine. Cassi..., this is my husband, Harry. Harry, this is Cassie Parkhurst. We met here at the gym.” Her eyes twinkled in silent laughter at her friend.“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand.“Likewise,” said Cassie, flushing redly. Turning her head, she whispered to Sue, “You are going to pay for this!”Sue started laughing, then took her mystified husband by. It was the Marquis de Saint-Meran. This toast, recalling at once the patient exile of Hartwell and the peace-loving King of France, excited universal enthusiasm; glasses were elevated in the air a l'Anglais, and the ladies, snatching their bouquets from their fair bosoms, strewed the table with their floral treasures. In a word, an almost poetical fervor prevailed."Ah," said the Marquise de Saint-Meran, a woman with a stern, forbidding eye, though still noble and distinguished in appearance,. More

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