‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. Purney's hand-writing," said Jack, advancing, "and can at once decide whether this is a forgery or not. I have said that I am but a nun now. She got up early, and walked about the garden in the dewy June sunshine and revived her childhood. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered.
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