” He said as Cathy took his coat and alternately handed him back his bouquet of red roses. Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. Greece was a different place. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings.
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