"Mr. 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. ‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. That is very bad indeed. And let's see if either of these women, who prate of their love for you, will do as much. "I must tell you," she was saying.
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