Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded. ‘Melusine was making herself mistress of them when we met. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying.
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