When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. Kneebone cordially on the shoulder, and began to laugh as heartily as any of them. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated.
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