A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. "So it is," the doctor agreed. The villagers were thronging to church. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers.
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