Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. She dreaded leaving him for the night, but separated herself finally. I’m a hard young woman. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear.
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