The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. “No thanks. In reply to this summons a horn was instantly blown at the corner of the street. Remember what the conjuror said. I borrowed forty pounds from Mr. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. I deserve pretty much what I’ve got.
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