The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. It would not burden him with any obligation. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. But it was not so ordered. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. ” She said, knowing that his kindness was certainly not the primary motivation for his magnum opus. She understood.
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