"I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. ’ The lodgekeeper’s jaw fell open. 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. The faithful fellow will never leave me. It might be dangerous to thwart him. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter.
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