Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own.
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