He had something across his knees. “No, stay, Lucy. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. " "Take time to consider of it," replied Wood sulkily, "there's no hurry. ” Her father’s irony deepened. The tension was palpable. ‘Not kill me, I mean. " "My coat, please.
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