She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. " "Have you told her?" "Told her? Told her what?" Spurlock sat straight in his chair. “She has gone down into the country. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. She was fine and tender.
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