" Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. 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. Wood.
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