His throat filled; he wanted to weep. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. "Now come along, Jack.
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