The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. ’ She looked up again and smiled sweetly. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name.
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