" "Not now, my love—not now," entreated Wood. ‘Yes, miss. "'Sdeath! why am I not obeyed?" exclaimed the knight, angrily. But in this posture he fared worse than ever. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. She has even found them accommodation in the house where she is putting up herself. " CHAPTER XVIII.
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