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Walpole, Hugh, Sir, 1884-1941

"The Cathedral"

In Orange Street."
"Why?"
She tried to speak coldly.
"We're friends. You know we are. Only in this beastly town no one can be
free.... I only want to tell you if I go away--suddenly--I'm coming back.
Mind that. You're not to believe anything they say--anything that any one
says. I'm coming back. Remember that. We're friends. You must trust me. Do
you hear?"
And he was gone, striding off towards the Cathedral, Andrew panting at his
heels.
The light was gone too--going, going, gone.
She stayed for a moment. As she reached her door the wind rose, sifting
through the grass, rising to her chin.

IV
The two figures met, unconsciously, without spoken arrangement, pushed
towards one another by destiny, as they had been meeting now continuously
during the last weeks.
Almost always at this hour; almost always at this place. On the sandy path
in the green hollow below the Cathedral, above the stream, the hollow
under the opposite hill, the hill where the field was, the field where
they had the Fair.
Down into this green depth the sunset could not strike, and the chimes,
telling over so slowly and so sweetly the three-quarters, filtered down
like a memory, a reiteration of an old promise, a melody almost forgotten.


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