But anything is better than this. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. "I'll run and bring him back. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. ’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. One trouble, however, shot its slanting bolts athwart the shining warmth of that opening day and marred its perfection, and that was the thought of her father.
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