The next moment, an exclamation was heard in the voice of Thames. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. “I don’t know where to go to. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian.
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