" Her son complied, and sat down upon the patch-work coverlet beside her. You want music. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. 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. Spurlock remained where he was until the sail became an infinitesimal speck in the distance.
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