For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. Her glance, absorbing the gilt letters and their significance, communicated to her poised body a species of paralysis. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments.
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