‘Now see here, missie. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care. I don’t mind it. Come and have lunch with me. 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. They are arbitrary and unjust and dogmatic and brutish and lustful.
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