"Come—the kiss!" cried Austin, endeavouring to pass his arm familiarly round the Amazon's waist. " "Bull's eye!" piped O'Higgins. She was making it up. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. .
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