Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. Sir Rowland then fell. They were silent for a time. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. " "She has paid dearly for it," muttered Blueskin.
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