When my father died, and we were left alone in Jersey, I was quite a long time deciding whether I would go in for singing professionally or try painting. 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. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. ’ Melusine’s eyes misted.
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