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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. The bridge was open. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. “I told you I did not love you. ” He said flatly.
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