A terrible spectacle was presented to the young man's gaze:—the floor deluged with blood—the mangled and lifeless body of Mrs. “I love this warm end of summer more than words can tell,” he said. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. How I wish I might meet this delightful mystery lady of yours. “Call me Cathy, John.
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