The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. The Well Hole 336 XIII. I must leave England to-night. "We work together no more.
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