She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. The ruffian caught hold of her hair, and held her fast. An enormous poster almost covered one side of the wall—the poster. . “Good-bye,” he said earnestly. Ben had scarcely adjusted his oars, when the gleam of a lantern was seen moving towards the bank.
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