Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. “I didn’t know you were so keen on this suffrage business. "All's bowman, my covey. Be warned by your father's fate.
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