Dollis Hill revisited. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. A young man, who had been spending the last hour walking up and down on the opposite side of the way, came quickly over to her. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. Nothing else matters. ’—he’s frightfully anti-Mendelian—having it all their own way. ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. \"Hey, don't be a stranger, Lucy. ’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy.
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