She gurgled. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. Sir John followed her gaze, and also saw them.
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