The brilliant sunshine poured through the window, effecting an oblong block of mote-swimming light. He was a little impressed by Ann Veronica’s metaphor of the string, which, indeed, she owed to Hetty Widgett. 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. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. I had no idea even that she was a friend of yours.
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