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. “You are developing far too retentive a memory for praises,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. The watermen, who manned the larger wherry, immediately shipped their oars, grappled with the drifting skiff, and held it fast. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. ’ Melusine shook him off.
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