“I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. You cannot tell whether you know him or not until you have seen him. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. But, when? When do they go?’ ‘Today, miss. "It would avail him little if he did," replied Kneebone. A single blanket constituted his sole covering at night.
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