[The Sowers by Henry Seton Merriman]@TWC D-Link book
The Sowers

CHAPTER XXXVII
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He faltered and looked round for a chair.

He sat heavily down with a little exclamation of pain and exhaustion, and felt for his pocket-handkerchief.

The scented cambric diffused a faint, dainty odor of violets.

He sat forward with his two hands on his knees, swaying a little from side to side.

Presently he raised his handkerchief to his face.


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