There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. As a consequence of its small size, it was possible to get along with the work on a much easier and more colloquial footing than a larger class would have permitted. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street.
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