It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam. “If you must go on with it,” said Hetty, “now’s your time. It worked. The son of Prudence instead was obliged to take her back to the convent on Sunday to see Martha and tell her the good news, and to fetch her meagre belongings.
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