The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. Wood. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland.
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