And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go. The woman I wanted was another man's wife. ‘Hates doing the pretty.
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