Spurlock had not coached her on this line of conduct. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. I've always been more or less music-mad. She—She can snub him. His eyes were red.
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