You understand me, I’m sure. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. And then they disgorged. 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. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes.
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