The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Spurlock's vision was oddly of the past. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. The sunshine was brilliant, the air mild.
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