Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. Until the last moment she was afraid. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty.
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