There is no need of your friend to kill you, imbecile, because I shall do so this minute. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. "But, take my advice, and keep out of Sir Rowland's way, or you'll get the poor lady into trouble as well as me. “Bless you, sweetheart.
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