She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. “Martin, you realize that I’m dating someone, don’t you?” She knew his reply before he uttered it. Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. It was a gray day in the spring of 1910.
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