Spurlock dove headlong at the other's legs, toppling the man. In a moment or two, Madame Valade recovered her sangfroid. “To my chagrin, I have. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek.
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