Very soon she would be able to forget it. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. The significance of the kiss was still obscure to her, though she had frequently encountered the word and act in the Old and New Testaments and latterly in novels. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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