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If ever she felt fatigue in these long tramps which had already taken her half over London, she never admitted it. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. I would even make over my engagement to you, if Mr. What!—add another drop to her cup? Who knows? Any day they may find me. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction.
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