” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. “I thought they made knights of actors?” “They may of Hal some day,” said Gwen. It must be somewhere hereabouts. Montressor’s guests. Had she expected to wed Valade herself? Had the fellow broken a vow of betrothal, or abandoned her? He must find out more. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames.
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