There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. ” “Oh, it wasn’t that. The charm of innocence breathes around her, as fragrance is diffused by the flower, sanctifying her lightest thought and action, and shielding her, like a spell, from the approach of evil. Now, you know where he is bound. "An oath weighs little with me, compared with your safety. Wily little devil she is.
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