She was practically an outcast, she had not even the ghost of a plan as to her future, and she had something less than five pounds in her pocket. “Mary! What’s going on! Why are you crying?!” He commanded an answer in a worried and slightly irritated tone. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon.
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