The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. ” “It was a delightful piece of good fortune that I should have met you,” he answered. “Martin, I don’t know what to say. Not Trodger. It makes no difference.
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