The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. "I am, Charcoal. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. " "For whom, Sir?" inquired Charcam. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. " "If this is the extent of it, Sir," returned the knight, ironically, "you may spare yourself further trouble.
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