They are not your flowers. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. ” “You are foolish,” she declared, with a note of irritability in her tone. It was always jabbing him with white-hot barbs, waking or sleeping. " "You flatter me," smiled Sir James.
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