Do you remember when we went right away, Nigel, and forgot everything? We went down the river past Veraz, and the larks were singing all over those deep brown fields, and the river further on wound its way like a coil of silver across the rich meadowland, and along the hillside vineyards. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind.
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