She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. 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. All of us were fussy, colicky babies from what she tells me. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. ” Lucy would always press her face into her mother’s skirts when she heard the ending, no matter how many times she heard it.
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