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. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. . . ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation. Here are their letters. " "Hear me, Madam, I beseech you," interposed Mrs.
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