He passed, and came loitering back and stood beside her, silently looking into her face. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river.
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