‘So now we come to it. It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. Do you remember when we went right away, Nigel, and forgot everything? We went down the river past Veraz, and the larks were singing all over those deep brown fields, and the river further on wound its way like a coil of silver across the rich meadowland, and along the hillside vineyards. You sent back my Christmas checks. We mustn’t make it so. He drew both his pistols, and prepared for a desperate encounter. We’ll have some buttered toast.
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