He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence. You are different from all the world for me. The entrance of Shoe Lane, and the whole line of the wall of St.
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