With a well-simulated unconcern and a heightened color she finished her breakfast. "Well, I'm not far from the mark. 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. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt. It has something to do with the fact that my Mom had them when she was only seventeen. I do not want to get only a second-hand flavour of life.
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