” She said, rubbing Lucy’s back. ” “That is another French custom,” he remarked, “which is not so agreeable. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees.
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