He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. "Your sympathy is being wasted. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. If the creator drew a hero anything like himself, she would accept it as a sign that he did care a little. ‘But it is entirely natural that I choose my own country. Strange, I shouldn't know him when he called on me. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr.
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