The tiles lay a foot thick in the road. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. He passed his arm under that of the constable, and drew him aside. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said.
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