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Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. 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. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. Epithalamy might do. Wood obeyed.
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