You go home and wait a century, Vee, and then try again. 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. ‘Jacques? Oh, that is news of the very finest. Thanks. " "'Sblood!" exclaimed Wild, uneasily. It was neither good nor bad.
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