Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. "I'll place it to your account, Sir Rowland," answered the thief-taker, smiling significantly. ” “Alive! In London!” Annabel moaned. She threw her arms around Rollo's neck and laid her cheek upon the flea-bitten head.
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