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In spite of the distance to which these conflicting statements seemed to relegate them, Odo somehow felt as though these pale strange people youths with ardent faces under their small round caps, damsels with wheat-coloured hair and boys no bigger than himself, holding spotted dogs in leash were younger and nearer to him than the dwellers on the farm: Jacopone the farmer, the shrill Filomena, who was Odo's foster-mother, the hulking bully their son and the abate who once a week came out from Pianura to give Odo religious instruction and who dismissed his questions with the invariable exhortation not to pry into matters that were beyond his years.
He drops the fish to the floor to rush into his mother's arms to be kissed and praised. I am busy, too; busy as I love best of all to be. For on my knee, her arms round my neck and her great mane of glorious wheat-coloured hair tickling my face, is the dearest little creature on God's earth, my other Margaret.
After walking about a hundred paces, he opened the gateway of a farmyard, threw down his plank against the wall, and led them into a large kitchen. "Mélie! are you there, Mélie?" A young girl appeared. At a word from him she drew some liquor and came back to the table to serve the gentlemen. Her wheat-coloured head-bands fell over a cap of grey linen.
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