The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. He had not thought to find a lady so ready of humour and willing to give him a hearing. The old man Pottiswick, still grumbling, much to Melusine’s disgust, had gone on his errand to his daughter’s house some two miles distant. Harita, bir ejderhanın tapınak gibi görünen bir mağarayı işaret ediyordu. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones.
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