But I was portentous, I can assure you. —"As Rowland's whole crew perished in the tempest, and he only escaped by miracle, he fancied himself free from detection. He read the Times with an unusually passionate intentness, and then declared suddenly for the earlier of the two trains he used. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. I ask you, although it is not my place to ask you, to return home.
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