" "What?" said the doctor, whose thoughts were in something of a turmoil. " "There, now! You mustn't get mixed. . . . I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. ” Lucy gestured to the Treehouse, which had been roofed and framed. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. For the sort of love-making you think about.
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