It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. But to choose this of all moments. No doubt there’s some little mistake. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness.
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