He’s riding down the drive. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. She held out her arm straight before her, and turned her hand this way and that. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. ‘Hilary is a darling. We aren't between him and heaven; he is between us and heaven. He would teach her all he knew of life so that if the Hand should ever reach his shoulder, she would be able to defend herself. " Sir Rowland bit his lips to repress the answer that rose to them.
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