They heard his footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. I could not hear his heart beat. “How’s the star?” John’s father asked. She struggled not to be afraid. " "Six weeks!" exclaimed Thames, in a melancholy tone.
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