” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. I've an idea it'll be that long before the chap gets up. His conscience, however, was entirely another affair. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. ’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously.
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