"Your health, Kneebone. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. I was resolved to see you. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink.
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