He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. He has been bottling it up all the way from West Kensington. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. "Yes, now," rejoined the infuriated dame; "perhaps, I may never have another opportunity.
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