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"We're going to get married, mamma, mamma;

"Hi! there goes one of them!--Halt!--Halt, you blue--" pop!--pop!--pop!

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

"A short three miles."

"Yes." She stooped low under the interlacing boughs and plunged with me into the double darkness.

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