The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. “Is Lady Lescelles in?” he asked the butler. But she had loved the man. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention. "I've known him all my life," replied the other. But at the word “home” she turned again. Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey.
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