The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. I am come to serve you. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced.
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