“Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. "Why came she here?" "She could not resist the hand of fate which drew her hither," replied Sir Cecil, mournfully. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily.
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