"Heaven grant you may have been wrongly informed with respect to Thames!" exclaimed Winifred; "but, I beseech you, on no account to mention what you have told me to my poor father. It seemed to her at this moment that there was nothing left for her to do. "We have him!" cried Jonathan, hurrying down the steps. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. That's well. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil.
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