Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. "You can do so. A note of belligerency had crept into his tone. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks.
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