" She smiled, and returned to the spinsters. “I don’t think I shall. “So what is John up to today?” Lucy asked with a weary smile. 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. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing.
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