Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. Blueskin fought his way towards it, and exerting all his strength, cutting right and left as he proceeded, reached it at the same time. He had spoken impressively, and most likely Anna, had she reappeared, would have met with a fair reception. Only I wish that it did not remind one so much of a second-hand clothes shop. He sat up in his chair as though the question had stung him.
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