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II. The People at Blooms-End Make Ready

           Thereisnobodyontheheaththisafternoon,andyouneednotfearbeingstaredat.Wemustgetsomeberries,orClymwillneverbelieveinourpreparations.”

           Thomasincamedownwhentheappleswerecollected,andtogethertheywentthroughthewhitepalingstotheheathbeyond.Theopenhillswereairyandclear,andtheremoteatmosphereappeared,asitoftenappearsonafinewinterday,indistinctplanesofilluminationindependentlytoned,therayswhichlitthenearertractsoflandscapestreamingvisiblyacrossthosefurtheroff;astratumofensaffronedlightwasimposedonastratumofdeepblue,andbehindtheselaystillremotersceneswrappedinfrigidgrey.

           Theyreachedtheplacewheretheholliesgrew,whichwasinaconicalpit,sothatthetopsofthetreeswerenotmuchabovethegeneralleveloftheground.Thomasinsteppedupintoaforkofoneofthebushes,asshehaddoneunderhappiercircumstancesonmanysimilaroccasions,andwithasmallchopperthattheyhadbroughtshebegantolopofftheheavilyberriedboughs.

           “Don’tscratchyourface,”saidheraunt,whostoodattheedgeofthepit,regardingthegirlassheheldonamidtheglisteninggreenandscarletmassesofthetree.“Willyouwalkwithmetomeethimthisevening?”

           “Ishouldliketo.ElseitwouldseemasifIhadforgottenhim,”saidThomasin,tossingoutabough.“Notthatthatwouldmattermuch;Ibelongtooneman;nothingcanalterthat.AndthatmanImustmarry,formypride’ssake.”

           “Iamafraid—”beganMrs.Yeobright.

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