In truth, she would quite like to have him rescue her. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. The farmer had become obsessed with her and asked her to marry. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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