“Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. "Put it under my pillow," he said. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank.
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