Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. " Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. “You are talking like a boy. "That is good. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. At the first blow, Mrs.
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