The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. He had only to recall this fact (which he did in each crisis) to erect a barrier she could not go around or over. You have spoken her name, I think, Marthe. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear. I will make her my Grail, and some day, perhaps, if God wills, she shall become my wife!’” He looked very hard before him as he said this, and his voice was full of deep feeling. ‘You make a game with me, I think.
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