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. ’ ‘Yes, but I need a word with Gerald,’ protested the captain, hanging back. ’ The possibility was indeed remote, for there had been no trouble with France since the Peace of Versailles had been signed six years ago. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline.
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