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She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. “I do not think that he is quite dead. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. With this view, he hurried to the spot where he had left the post-chaise, and found it drawn up at the road-side, the postilion dismounted, and in charge of a couple of farming-men. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch.
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