"At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand. He stopped before her suddenly. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone.
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