"What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. The few whites he had ever known generally offered to pet him when they really wanted to kick him. The struggle was brief, and Gerald stepped aside, the pistol in his possession, while the girl Melusine stood trembling and glaring.
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