Abruptly he gripped her wrist. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. You are a girl with very little. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace.
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