“Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. "Wretch!" cried Jack. " He laughed and followed her into the hotel. " "No," answered the ruffian, moodily. Does that boy live in some sort of personal cave? Like, I think he might even be thinking about asking you out again! That is what I think. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. " "At least, I will hope so," returned Winifred. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. "Off!" she cried with a prolonged and piercing shriek. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac.
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