” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. " And he strode out of the place. ‘Besides, I don’t want the men blundering in here and frightening off our spy. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter.
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