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He envied her a little. It's my way when I'm ruffled. Upon a table, where they had been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident, lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and death of Actæon. 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. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. " "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. You shall know the truth. I was grateful.
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