But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. His lips were tight drawn. ‘Will you—what was it?—“blow off his head”?’ Melusine eyed her, a little uncertain. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. In the first place, it will be damnably dull.
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