"Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. See paragraph 1. You’ve got me. 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 bestowed a dazzling smile on Roding, who had reddened to the gills at these words.
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