" "Waste not another word with him, Thames," cried Jack. 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. ‘Certainly I can prove it. I was his wife. Indeed, she did not want to think of him as loving her. It is her duty to tell me, and I would not have her think that I had been trying to work upon your sympathies to learn her secrets. Kneebone, Mrs.
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