It must be the dawn creeping in. Petrified and speechless, he turned an imploring look at Wild, who was himself filled with astonishment at the pile of rubbish lying before him. 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. He laughed. ” The topic of his invalid wife bored him, and he turned at once to Ann Veronica. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. “I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily.
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