One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. " And springing backwards, he darted suddenly through the door. Until the age of five she adored him. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. If this is true, it must be owned that the boy's mouth showed a strong tendency on his part to coarse indulgence.
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