Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. ‘C’est ridicule. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly. I never could. Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight.
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