With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds. Then, mysteriously, he no longer smelled or tasted it. ” She peered at him through the semi-blackness. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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