“Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. 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. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. This done, Edgeworth Bess, who watched her opportunity, slipped out of the Lodge.
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