Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. I was a novelty. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. “Oh, Lord!” she said, discovering what she was up to, and dropped lightly from the fence upon the turf and went on her way toward the crest. “Well, anyhow, consider it open.
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