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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The White Company"

A wreath of blue smoke floated up through a
hole in the thatch, and was the only sign of life in the place,
save a great black hound which lay sleeping chained to the
door-post. In the yellow shimmer of the autumn sunshine it lay
as peacefully and as still as he had oft pictured it to himself
in his dreams.
He was roused, however, from his pleasant reverie by the sound of
voices, and two people emerged from the forest some little way to
his right and moved across the field in the direction of the
bridge. The one was a man with yellow flowing beard and very
long hair of the same tint drooping over his shoulders; his dress
of good Norwich cloth and his assured bearing marked him as a man
of position, while the sombre hue of his clothes and the absence
of all ornament contrasted with the flash and glitter which had
marked the king's retinue. By his side walked a woman, tall and
slight and dark, with lithe, graceful figure and clear-cut,
composed features. Her jet-black hair was gathered back under a
light pink coif, her head poised proudly upon her neck, and her
step long and springy, like that of some wild, tireless woodland
creature.


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