And afterward her mother and Alice kissed long and clung to each other. I’d come back from the ends of the earth. We are alone, Sir Rowland," he added, snuffing the candles, glancing cautiously around, and lowering his tone, "and what you confide to me shall never transpire,—at least to your disadvantage. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story.
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