She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. He took into his soul some of the father's misery, some of the daughter's, to mingle with his own. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains.
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