” She laughed. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. It did not matter that he wore the cloth; something was wrong with him. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. "I could not believe you capable of so foul a deed.
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