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the fragrance of apple-blossoms even now brought an ache to his heart; the sunlight on the trunk of the birch across the road reminded him of the gold of her hair. The first thing to do was to get away from the Green. After that? He wondered what other men had done in like quandaries. In books they went to war or sea or lost themselves in dim corners of the world. Sometimes they were killed, usually with the girl's name on their lips; sometimes they came back after many years and found the girl unmarried or widowed and ready to fall into their arms. Miles smiled grimly. He hadn't any desire to be killed; neither Africa nor Thibet nor South America appealed to him. He supposed what a sensible man would do would be to "buck up"—to use the phrase occurring to him—and go ahead with his