America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. ” 129 She smiled wider. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence.
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