“I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. There was one letter. What marriage really meant (aside from the idea of escape), Ruth had not the least conception, no more than a child. Who is she, I say?” “My sister!” Annabel faltered. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. After all, she only LOOKED a woman. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon.
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