There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. Darrell stopped, and drew his sword. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. “Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. Anna herself opened the hall door.
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