“The surgeon’s knife is surely a kindly weapon,” she declared. ’ The reference to Major Alderley’s wounds reminded Melusine all at once of the fight they’d had, and its consequence. Baffled in their attempt, the mob uttered a roar, such as only a thousand angry voices can utter, and discharged a volley of missiles at the soldiery. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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