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 not in love with her en désespoir which, he said, was necessary if a man would marry without getting a dowry from his wife. No offence, I hope. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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