Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. You can have no shecrets from me. Mr. I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me.
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