For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. Daybreak found her winding her painful way along the Harrow Road; and, in order to shorten the distance as much as possible, she took the nearest cut, and struck into the meadows on the right. “You will always have to run from normal people and normal life, John. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears.
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