She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. “You fill me with happiness, John. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them.
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