Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. " "You needn't trouble yourself," replied Thames. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. There were no mourners. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. I shouldn't talk like that. E. “Nothing has happened to Mr. 8. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place.
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