The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. I have only just left Wych Street. Even this man-hunting machine was willing to grant the boy his honeymoon.
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