At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. “It’s—it’s a difficult question. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. " "I hope such a thing never will happen again, my dear," observed Wood, mildly, "but, when it does, it will be time to consider what course we ought to pursue. Drummond patted him on the shoulder.
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