’ That arrested her. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. I spent many happy days there. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides. Her greatest exploit was the howling before the mid-day meal.
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