MANNING,—I find it very difficult to answer your letter. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. "Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. She would never love him as she loved Capes, of course, but there are grades and qualities of love. “Don’t think that I have been playing the spy upon you,” he continued.
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