Spurlock advanced, the censer swung high. “Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. “I should really like to find somewhere to stay, if it was only for a few nights. ‘As Madame Valade, you will be an émigré, not a nun. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. Yes. 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. It had been very peaceful in the little cave for countless years.
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