Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Michelle, I truly don’t. I mean—I mean to do what I can. ‘Of course the fellow has doubtless stayed put to wait for you,’ retorted Hilary.
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