The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. It is picturesquely situated beneath a tree on the high road, not far from the little hostel before mentioned, and at no great distance from the church. Peste, but everything had become difficult. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying.
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