Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. ” “But—This bolt from the blue! My God! Ann Veronica, you don’t understand. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious.
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