Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. " "Pity!" shrieked the widow. ’ She inclined her head, looking up at him through her lashes, and passing a tongue lightly over her lips. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. No surprise, for Melusine was aware no Frenchman in his situation would dream of walking abroad unarmed.
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