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TESS OF THE D’URBERVILLES

‘And my question, Tessie?’

‘O no—no!’ replied she with grave firmness, as one who heard anew the turmoil of her own past. ‘It can’t be!’

She went out towards the mead, joining the other milkmaids with a bound, as if trying to make the open air drive away her sad constraint. All the girls drew onward to the spot where the cows were grazing in the farther mead, the bevy advancing with the bold grace of wild animals—the reckless unchastened motion of women accustomed to unlimited space—in which they abandoned themselves to the air as a swimmer to the wave. It seemed natural enough to him now that Tess was again in sight to choose a mate from unconstrained Nature, and not from the abodes of Art.

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