“Manning,” she said, and contemplated a figure of inaggressive persistence. 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. "What of that," rejoined Jonathan. “Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone.
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