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Updated: June 18, 2025
"He does not seem to be here. You have not seen him, I suppose? He is tall and fair with a boyish smile, and eyes that look straight at you. He laughs a good deal. He is always laughing. You couldn't fail to notice him. He is one whom the gods love." Again her eyes roamed over Dinah, and again they passed her to scan the mist-wreathed mountains. Dinah slipped a loving hand through her arm.
There was light here that shone in a great flare through billows of fog, showing the monster form of a great vessel towering above them with only a few yards of mist-wreathed water between.
And here at last is Needham farm, at the top of its own steep pitch, with the sycamore trees in the lane beside it, the Red Brook sweeping round it to the right, the rough gate below, the purple Scout mist-wreathed behind.
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