“I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. This "fatal retreat for the unfortunate brave" was marked by a low wooden railing, within which stood the triple tree. “That’s not working so well for you, is it?” She looked at him sheepishly, bringing a Kleenex out of her pocket to wipe away the excess. Even the chattering monkeys, parrots, and parrakeets departed the fruit groves for the smelly dark of the jungle.
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