She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Why, honestly enouch. He found the horse where Thames told him he would find him, mounted, and rode off across the fields in the direction of town. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON.
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