She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. The honey on his tongue turned to ashes. He paused at the bamboo curtain of her room, which was in semi-darkness. "Here, take this and get the letter and open and read it. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. Don't lay it all to the boy.
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