A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. . The doctor would naturally offer a hundred objections; he might seriously interfere; so he must be forestalled. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment.
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