"I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. "Not in the least," returned Kneebone, slyly, "not in the least. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. But he would make it a point not to speak again to the girl. Part 3 Later they loitered along a winding path above the inn, and made love to one another. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat.
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