It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. \"Can I get your ticket?\" He asked her as she approached the vendor. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. 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. " "Impossible, dear Mrs. "All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind. For the present the desire to fly was gone. Certainly, we—that is Jarvis and I— knew nothing of it until after Mary’s death.
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