“Let’s go home. ‘But my poor Jacques is wounded and—’ ‘All taken care of,’ interrupted Hilary. "I shall breathe more freely dere. 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. Habits and tastes are no longer the same. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. ’ Her face fell. It was ended. By-the-bye,” he added, in a suddenly altered tone, “I hope, I trust—that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one here?” “I—oh no!” Anna said, a little faintly. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. You have betrayed me. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse.
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