“Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people.
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