She was not altogether surprised when she found a deer, gutted of its entrails and strung with a garland of flowers, on the cave’s doorstep one humid summer morning. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. "Aw, piffle!" he said, half aloud and rather disgustedly, as he stepped out into the sunshine. “I remember hearing something about it.
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