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Updated: May 7, 2025
Not a pawky wee burn, like this Aberglaslyn thing." "Only five fish?" said Valencia, in a frightened tone. "Fish, my leddy, not trouts, I said. I thought ye knew better than that by this time." "Oh, salmon?" cried Valencia, relieved. "Delightful. I'll go to him this moment." And upstairs to Scoutbush's room she went.
In ten minutes the ladies were packed into the carriage, and away, under Mellot's care. Frank watched Valencia looking back, and smiling through her tears, as they rolled through the village; and then got into his car, and rattled down the southern road to Pont Aberglaslyn, his hand still tingling with the last pressure of Valencia's. But where has Stangrave been all this while?
The way from Harlech by Portmadoc to exquisite Pont Aberglaslyn and Beddgelert is very Arthurian; that is, it suggests pre-mediæval backgrounds, and at every turn I caught myself expecting to come upon Camelot, unspoiled, unchanged.
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