Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. His statement was treated with derision. “Do you think that it is kind of you, Miss Pellissier,” he said, almost roughly, “to ignore your friends so? In your heart you know quite well that you could pay Sydney or me no greater compliment than to give us just a little of your confidence. I cannot tell you much about it, but my bad times are over for the present. One of the reasons why I decline to talk is this: that boy's punishment will be enough. He walked in her direction.
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