Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. “Do come and see the Michaelmas daisies at the end of the garden,” said Mr. On the orders of Mr Jarvis, that were. ” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. 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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