And what a noise they made! This is how I used to call them. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. He could have easily forced it, but preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. He must have married when he was quite a young man.
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