” “Thank you very much,” Anna said. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. With his tongue lolling and his flea-bitten stump wagging apologetically, he glanced from face to face to see if there was any forgiveness visible.
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