"Come, let's be off. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. To-night all London believes that he was your husband.
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