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What action? As he walked by his friend's side from the huts where the dead men lay it revealed itself that he saw his way. They were going to the vicarage to consult a medical book, but on the way there they passed a part of the park where, through a break in the timber the huge, white, blind-faced house stood on view. Mount Dunstan laid his hand on Mr. Penzance's shoulder and stopped him,
So he stood, thinking, as he for some time watched her walking up the sunset-glowing road. Betty Vanderpoel's walk back to Stornham did not, long though it was, give her time to follow to its end the thread of her thoughts. Mentally she walked again with her uncommunicative guide, through woodpaths and gardens, and stood gazing at the great blind-faced house.
It was all unreasoning there was no more to be done than on those other days which he had wakened to with bitterness, because they seemed useless and empty of any worth but this morning the mere light of the sun was of use, the rustle of the small breeze in the leaves, the soft floating past of the white clouds, the mere fact that the great blind-faced, stately house was his own, that he could tramp far over lands which were his heritage, unfed though they might be, and that the very rustics who would pass him in the lanes were, so to speak, his own people: that he had name, life, even the common thing of hunger for his morning food it was all of use.
The great beautiful, blind-faced house, awaiting its slow doom in the midst of its lonely unfed lands what could save it, and all it represented of race and name, and the stately history of men, but the power one professed to call base and sordid mere money? She felt a sudden impatience at herself for having said she was tired of it.
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