“I just wanted you to see that the time will come when I must leave you, and the time is coming soon. In fact, I order you to do so. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Happy Birthday, then. He barely shook the rose petals from her hair. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue.
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