” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. " "Of what am I accused?" asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. ’ ‘What?’ Appalled, Gerald could only gaze at her. It wasn’t long ago that a girl went straight from the farm to her husband, just as soon as her period came and she could make babies. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. Take it, I tell you.
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