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toward him, and, with a warning gesture to Bistre, Miles stood there a moment to view—the scenery. Overhead fluffs and ribbons of creamy-white clouds sailed about on a sea of blue, wafted by a prankish breeze from the south. Under the trees the ground was splashed with pink as a result of yesterday's rain, and now and then a breeze, swaying the branches lazily, sent little showers of petals floating through the air. The world was fresh and clean and damp, and sweet with the odor of blossoms and of drenched foliage. The sunlight was flashed back from millions of gems in rays of all colors. Chrysoprases and tourmalines gleamed from the swaying grass-blades, pink pearls and opals shimmered from the trembling blossoms, emeralds and topazes were strung
 * spreading apple-trees. Her back was