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Liljencrantz, Ottilie A. (Ottilia Adelina), 1876-1910

"The Ward of King Canute; a romance of the Danish conquest"

Wel-a-way! What! Why have you troubled to send for me, if you hold
my happiness so lightly that you will not comply with me in so small a
matter?" Bridling softly, she was turning away, when the young King threw up
his hands in good-humored surrender.
"To this I will quickly reply that my shield does not secure me against tears!
If it is not to your wish we will not speak of it. Give back, foster-brother,
and choose two of the others to be your drinking-companions. Look up, my fair
one, and admit that I am the most obedient of your thralls. Never, on former
days or since, have I so much as kicked one of your little yelping dogs,
though I hate them as Stark Otter hated bells."
Sunshine through the mist, Elfgiva laughed. "Nay, but you have them drowned
when I am not looking," she retorted.
He did not take the trouble to deny it; indeed he laughed as though the
accusation was especially apt. "Have I ever wounded you more deeply than a
trinket would cure?" he demanded.
And behold, she had already forgotten the matter, to catch at the huge
arm-ring which was slipping up and down his sleeve, so loose a fit was it.
"What Grendel's neck did you take it from! If it had but an opening, I could
use it for a belt."
Smiling, the King looked down on his monster bracelet. "That," he said, "does
not altogether do me credit, for it shows the difference in girth between me
and Edmund Ironside.


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