The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. Utter silence answered him. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. " "Won't one from me do as well?" interposed Mrs. C below. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone.
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