He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. ’ Her face fell. "But she is a dear," said Angelina, timidly.
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