Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. The boat rocked violently with the struggle. “Someone must have found it and taken good care of it.
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