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When Walter saw to where Sybelle and her companions had moved, he felt a strong sense of satisfaction. They had left the vicinity of the tables, where an abundance of bread, cheese, small pasties containing spiced chopped meat, and tall flagons of wine were available, and had taken possession of a quiet corner produced by the protruding stones of the great hearth, where an enormous fire burned. Since it burned, to a greater or lesser extent, day and night all year, the stones gave out a steady heat. |
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It was not as warm as a position in front of the hearth, but it was more private, and Walter wondered whether Sybelle had steered them to that place. He set out to join them, but as he moved down the hall, Walter realized that the quiet corner was also half-hidden from the table where he had been sitting. That made him wonder, with a flicker of embarrasment, whether he had been unconsciously watching Sybelle all the time he was at the table with Pembroke and Llewelyn. He told himself it did not matter. The earl and prince were too busy with their own affairs to have noticed, and he was already aware of the strong fascination Sybelle held for him. Perhaps that should have worried him, but the nearer he came to her, the lighter and more cheerful he felt. |
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"I have spoken to your father," Walter said as soon as he was close enough to Sybelle to be heard without raising his voice. "I have his permission to marry you." |
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This was no surprise to Sybelle, who had been told by Joanna of Walter's conference with her father. Nor had she been surprised by his voice, although her back had been toward him as he approached. She had been somehow aware of him all the time that he was involved with Richard and Prince Llewelyn. Knowing that Walter was there, in close conference with the two most important men in Wales, had |
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