1. “Nevertheless,” Hill said doggedly, “I am here to speak to you alone. 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. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know. I do not wish that the soldiers there will see it shine. But it never said: "Tell someone! Tell someone!" Was he something of a moral pervert, then? Was it what he had lost—the familiar world—rather than what he had done? He stared dully at the footrail.
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