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. ” “I can’t be portentous, dear, when you’re about. Light flooded the uncarpeted chamber, revealing the decayed state of the place. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself.
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