Part 3 At last the evening was over, and Capes and his wife had gone down to see Mr. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. With this view, he suffered him to pass on. “Often,” he repeated, a little heavily. No other white people within twenty miles. Even now I do not understand. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting.
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