His lips were tight drawn. 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. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. Another long interval elapsed. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. ‘Don’t be so absurd. ” “Did you say,” Sir John asked, “that the man’s name was Hill?” “Yes,” she answered.
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