Michelle stopped by the Beck’s after school that day. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. ‘I agree with you. 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. Or else he was indeed obsessed. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy.
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