Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. He's a Welshman, and I wouldn't for a trifle that any accident befel him. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. ‘I don’t know that I dare. I do not blame you for the act.
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