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He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home. I’ve had my time and lost my chances. ’ ‘And you believe her?’ asked Lucilla, raising her brows.
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