‘You have every right to be angry with me. There was a young lad ahead of her. 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. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. ” She looked at him with fluttering eyelids—sweetly grateful. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. “There is my aunt,” she said.
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