The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. 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. “I looked for you on the way home from The Big Apple, where were you?” Lucy smiled. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. " At this juncture, the door opened, and Thames entered the room.
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