The three of them laughed joyously. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. ’ She shuddered, throwing her hands over her face. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic.
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