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Leaf II. A Love-Letter, Loaded. "That may be," rejoined Etwald, taking a seat, "but I can not be sure. You see neither you nor I know anything of the poison which was in the handle of that African instrument. It--" I took possession of it and carried it to a bench in the garden that backs up against the purple sprayed lilacs and is flanked by two rows of tall purple and white iris that stand in line ready for a Virginia reel with a delicate row of the poet's narcissus across the broad path. I love my flowers. I love them swaying on their stems in the wind, and I like to snatch them and crush the life out of them against my breast and face. I have been to bed every night this spring with a bunch of cool violets against my cheek, and I feel that I am going to dance with my tall row of hollyhocks as soon as they are old enough to hold up their heads and take notice. They always remind me of very stately gentlemen, and I have wondered if the little narcissus weren't shaking their ruffles at them..
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"Dr. Etwald?" "Why did she not come in?" asked Jen, coldly, for he did not feel very amiably disposed toward the widow. "Oh," cried Jen, recalling Dido's denial, "she knows of that, does she?" He held me gently for half a second, and then, with a sob which I felt rather than heard, he crushed me to him and stopped my breath with his lips on mine. I understood things then that I never had before, and I felt I was safe at last. I raised my hand and pressed it against John's wet lashes until he could let me speak, and I was melted into his very breast itself..
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