” Brendon went very pale. "I'm sorry," she said. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. They seemed to her that morning to be all armed with nets and prepared to throw them over her directly her movements became in any manner truly free. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse.
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