’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. 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. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. Had she said the words aloud? He pulled her close and she nuzzled her head on his chest. " "Devil take the key!" ejaculated Wood. Once again the cavalcade was in motion, and winding its way by St.
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