He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. “Mind my smoking?” said Roddy. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. She cursed herself for a fool. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily.
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