But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. ‘Why does this person say you are mad?’ ‘Because I am risking having my head blown off,’ Gerald answered cheerfully. " "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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