” She replied. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Its walled heaved with black mildew and sea-salt. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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