Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Terence, meanwhile, who had followed him, did not remain silent, but recapitulated his story, for the benefit of Mrs. Sheppard; and, as soon as he could command his feelings, which were considerably excited by the mention of her distresses, he squeezed her hand warmly, bestowed a hearty execration upon his own inhumanity, and swore he would neither separate her from her child, nor suffer any one else to separate them. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct. Beck, it smells wonderful in here.
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