« “The profits,” Isa read out from her blurred carbon copy, “are to go to a fund for installing electric light in the Church.” “All our village festivals,” Mr. Oliver snorted turning to Mrs. Manresa, “end with a demand for money.” “Of course, of course,” she murmured, deprecating his severity, and the coins in her bead bag jingled.

“Nothing’s done for nothing in England,” the old man continued. »

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