“I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. ‘Now see here, missie. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said.
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