FORE:"What, they are yours then?" said De Boteler in a still harsher tone.
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FORE:"But you did not go there in the dark night, and with only one man; and even then, where would you have been now only for our good friends in the forest. Oh Stephen!" she continued, starting up and throwing her arms round his neck, as she imagined she saw something of irresolution in his countenance,"do not go this night."
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FORE:
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FORE:We before observed that Stephen Holgrave's dwelling was situated at a short distance from the little Eastbourne; and, on the night of All-hallows fair, a quick knocking was heard at the door just after Holgrave had retired to rest. Holgrave, concluding it was some mandate from the castle, arose, and, in a surly voice, demanded who was there?However, someone had to look after the invalid, and Pete might as well do it as anybody elseas long as he realised that his sick-nursing was a recreation, and not a substitute for his duties on the farm.
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FORE:That afternoon De Boteler, throwing a plain dark cloak over his rich dress, left the castle, took the path that led to Holgrave's abode, and raising the latch, entered the cottage.
FORE:She was very happy, and if she thought of Harry and what might have been, it only brought a delightful sad-smiling melancholy over her happiness like a bridal veil.
FORE:"Wot's that?" his father-in-law repeated."Hold, minion! Cease! or you will tempt me to hang the culprit from the battlements of yonder keep, if it were only to afford news to your master. Presumptuous shaveling! know you not that the royal franchise granted to this manor empowers me to sit in judgment on my vassals, and that it is only as an act of grace that she is handed over to a jury of the county."
FORE:Rose noticed this difference, and it piqued her. She began to miss his continual protestations. Sometimes she tried to stir them up again, but her bafflings had reacted on herself; she handled him clumsily, he was too mazed to respond to her flicks. Then she became sulky, irritable, slightly tyrannouseven stinting her kisses.The house was swimming in the light of the western moon. Its strange curves and bulges, its kiln-shaped ends, and great waving sprawl of roof all shone in a white glassy brilliance, which was somehow akin to peace. There was a soft flutter of wind in the orchard and in the sentinel poplars, while now and then came that distant night-purged scrap of song:
FORE:"But f?ather, it didn't t?ake up any of my time, writing that poem. I wrote it at my breakfast one mornun two months ago"
