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. ‘The truth is, Everett,’ she said brightly, limping up to the general and tucking a hand in his arm, ‘that the girl is you all over again. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. Well, I'll be getting this tub under way. Not at all. I was not even sure whether it was loaded.
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