A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. The Return 231 II. On the way he confessed. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again.
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