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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"The Mayor of Troy"


For these reasons, the meal over, she was glad to pay her sixpence
and escape from the throng back to the woodland paths and solitude.
The children by this time had grown tired of straying, and were
trooping back to the village. Fewer and fewer met her as she
followed the shore; the two slumberers were gone from the mossy bank;
by and by the procession dried up, so to speak, altogether.
She understood the reason when a drum began to bang overhead behind
the woods and passed along the ridge, still banging. The Gallants
were returning; and apparently flushed with victory, since between
the strokes she could hear their distant shouts of laughter.
At one moment she fancied they must be descending through the woods:
for a crackling of the undergrowth, some way up the slope, startled
and brought her to a halt. But no; the noise passed along the ridge
towards the village. The crackling sound must have come from some
woodland beast disturbed in his night's lair.
She retraced her way slowly to the spot where she had disembarked;
but when she reached it, Cai and the boat had vanished. No matter;
Cai was a trustworthy fellow, and doubtless would be back ere long.
Likely enough he had pulled across to the farther shore to bear a
hand in what Troy euphemistically called the "salvage" of the
long-boats' cargoes. Happy in her solitude, rejoicing in her
extended liberty, Miss Marty strolled on, now gazing up into the
green dappled shadows, now pausing on the brink to watch the water as
it swirled by her feet, smooth and deep and flawed in its depths with
arrow-lights of sunshine.


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