She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. ‘Knew you had the lad with you, and thought you were merely delayed. You can come back for these, for you’ll carry him to the gatehouse, that’s what you’ll do. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. But here I am to draw upon.
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