"As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. But don’t think your heroic milice will save you. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. At present I cannot marry, I will not become bound even to any one. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so.
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