He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. I don’t know. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor. ” “And the man stands as the master at the mouth of the den. Nevertheless she withdrew her hand. 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.
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