And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. She was unusually helpful at breakfast, and unselfish about the eggs: and then she went off to catch the train before her father’s. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly.
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