She wouldn't be able to pass by anywhere without folks turning their heads. ’ He nodded. 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. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Let him be sure.
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