A crisis of some kind was toward. "Why can't I?" "You will be compromised. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. “No reason. A slight rain fell at the time; and a few leaves, caught by the eddies, whirled around. "Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse.
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