Ireton, was appointed to the office, stood with a hammer in one hand, and a punch in the other, near the great stone block, ready to fulfil his duty. “Then you—you will?” A long pause. An ancient smile lay on his lips. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. "At length I am my own master," murmured the knight, as his foot touched the strand.
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