Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you. Sebastian rose from the tomb. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. I asked him—to take me away. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers.
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