Both the fugitive and his chasers embarked on the Thames. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. "You think our sex has no feeling, I suppose, Sir," cried Mrs. Thanks.
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