\"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. 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. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. Ruth could not very well object, since an air of distinction would go with Taber.
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