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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. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured. And afterward her mother and Alice kissed long and clung to each other. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up.
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This video was uploaded to thiruvalluvan.com on 18-09-2024 13:14:50
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