Page:A Motor-Flight Through France.djvu/232

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A MOTOR-FLIGHT THROUGH FRANCE

joram, and all the scents of our sachets," yet reached her highest pitch of eloquence when, with stiff fingers and shuddering pen, she pictured the unimaginable February cold, the "awful beauty of winter," the furious unchained Rhone, and "the mountains charming in their excess of horror."

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