In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. "But what does he mean by calling you a wanton? —you, my wife?" Enschede's hand slipped from his daughter's shoulder. ’ Emile reached out both hands and grasped her shoulders.
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