‘I know you, Gerald. Ann Veronica sat back in an attitude of inattention, her eyes on a distant game of cricket, her mind perplexed and busy. 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. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. Wrap yourself in my cloak, and keep it.
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