"You told the duke who you were?" breaks in Lady Rodney at this moment, who is in one of her worst moods.,
All through the air the smell of heather, sweet and fragrant, reigns. Far down, miles away, the waves rush inland, glinting and glistening in the sunlight.,
So runs on the kindly farmer, smitten to the heart that such things should be,—and done upon Rodney of all men. He walks round the young man, muttering his indignation in a low tone, while helping him with gentle care to remove his coat,—or at least what remains of that once goodly garment that had for parent Mr. Poole..
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