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"Base-born knave! do you think you wear a coat of mail in that hypocritical garb. Ho! Calverley, let the woman be instantly transmitted to Gloucester castle, that my lord abbot may thunder his anathemas against its walls, if it so please him; and then bear this meddling monk to the tumbrel, that he may learn better than to beard his natural lord under his own roof."
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"Who's Rose?"Reuben received the blow in silenceit stunned him. He did not go over to Cheat Landsomething, he scarcely knew what, kept him away. In the long yellow twilights he wandered on Boarzell. The rain-smelling March wind scudded over the grass, over the wet furrows of his cornfields, over the humming tops of the firs that, with the gorse splashed round their trunks, marked the crest of the Moor and of his ambition. Would they ever be his, those firs? Would he ever tear up that gorse and fling it on the bonfire, as he had torn up the gorse on the lower slopes and burned it with roars and cracklings and smoke that streamed over the Moor to Totease? Perhaps Realf would have the firs and the gorse, and pile that gorgeous bonfire. Tilly would put him up to her father's gameReuben's imagination again failed to conceive the man who did not want Boarzellshe would betray Odiam's ambitions, and babble its most vital secrets. Tilly, Reuben told Boarzell, was a bitch."?un't driving me, anyhow. I'm fighting it."Robert loved these choir practices and church singings. Though he never complained of his hard work, he was unconsciously glad of a change from the materialism of Odiam. The psalms with their outbreathings of a clearer life did much to purge even his uncultured soul of its muddlings, the hymns with their sentimental farawayness opened views into which he would gaze enchanted as into a promised land. He would come in tired and throbbing from the fields, scrape as much mud as possible off his boots, put on his Sunday coat, and tramp through the dusk to the clerk's house ... the little golden window gleaming to him across Peasmarsh street and pond was the foretaste of the evening's sweetness.
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