But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. He shook his head. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. The major’s hand stilled. “I don’t know how, but I always manage to find a 164 fiddle if there is one around. " "Advanced them rather," replied Gay, in the same tone.
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