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The boys arrived at Lyndhurst Road Station late in the evening, long after dusk, and were driven in darkness through Bartley and Minstead up to the high-lying moors of Stoneycross. Next morning, early, John woke his friend, and opened the shutters. "Jolly morning," he said. "Have a look at the Forest, old chap." Caesar jumped out of bed, and drew a long breath.
That afternoon, when they were alone upon the splendid moor above Stoneycross, Desmond said suddenly "Religion means a lot to you, Jonathan, doesn't it?" "Yes." "But you never talk about it." "No." "Why not?" "I don't know how to begin." "There's such sickening hypocrisy in this world." John nodded. "But your religion is a help to you, eh? Keeps you straight?" John nodded again.
At Beaulieu, standing in the ruins of the Abbey, he could hear Desmond's delightful laugh as he recited the misadventures of Hordle John; at Stoneycross he sat upon the bank overlooking the moor, whence they had seen the fox steal into the woods about Rufus's Stone; at the Bell tavern at Brook they had lunched; at Hinton Admiral they had played cricket.
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