Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. It may be, it probably will all come to, nothing. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Will you tell her that?" "I will," replied Thames, earnestly. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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