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CHAPTER XXIII. Wood. “Go to London,” said Ann Veronica. That would come later. As the body was borne to the house in the arms of the farming-men, Mr. . And from that they came back by way of the Kreutzer Sonata and Resurrection to Tolstoy again. How plainly he could see the patch of garden in the summer sunshine and the white hollyhocks nodding above the picket fence! ***** Ruth sat waiting for the half hour, subconsciously. He would advise you how to get rid of the fellow. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then.
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