She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Now let us forget it. . Immediately after it, he was off again, and that, let me tell you, was the last anyone saw of him. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. The back of the house had been the Alps for climbing, and the shrubs in front of it a Terai. " (An order which was promptly obeyed.
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