She often found herself absorbed by watching the tall grass undulate from the cave’s central doorway as solitary hunters prowled for buffalo and stag on the plain. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. But it is my fault. Presently the odour of burnt powder mingled agreeably with that of the incense. ’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. I am quite indiscriminate, I assure you.
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