’ The girl bit her lip and backed a little, while her husband shifted to stand at her side. The lad looked alarmed. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. You are not going to that infidel Russell’s classes.
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