'—'What is it, Mint?' asked all three. . . She struggled fiercely not to give way. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. Heaven knows why! They don’t marry most of us off now until high up in the twenties. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived.
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