She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. Suddenly, such a shout as has seldom smitten human ears rent the air. ’ He let her go. " While Mr. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring.
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