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“Really?” “Would not let it go. [Illustration: Distinctive Pictures Corporation. Sheppard remained dissolved in tears. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. And to think that man got it all out of the poorest little love-story for a respectable titled lady! Have you read of it?” “Never. She remained on guard. Yet her aunt, with a ringed hand flitting to her lips and a puzzled, worried look in her eyes, deaf to all this riot of warmth and flitting desire, was playing Patience—playing Patience, as if Dionysius and her curate had died together. 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. Supper was spaghetti and Italian sausage that night.
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