Wood had prevented him from paying much attention to the previous scene. “One doesn’t wait,” said Ann Veronica. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. To have sprung this upon them to-night would have been worth a thousand pounds. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile.
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