He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. ” “But what did father imagine?” “Of course he imagined! Any one would! ‘What has happened, Peter?’ I asked. 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 find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre.
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