Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. It was 1582. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. Until two hours ago she was as contented and as happy as a linnet. “To be my eternal love.
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