The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. They went to the gate and stopped there, gabbed with their men, and didn’t even dismount. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. . “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. " "Ha!" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild. “But your hair,” he gasped.
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