It was late when Mr. Jamieson finally got up to go. I went with him to the door, and together we stood looking out over the valley. Below lay the village of Casanova, with its Old World houses, its blossoming trees and its peace. Above on the hill across the valley were the lights of the Greenwood Club. It was even possible to see the curving row of parallel lights that marked the carriage road. Haters Gonna Hate Unicorn Dog Shirt, Hoodie. Rumors that I had heard about the club came back—of drinking, of high play, and once, a year ago, of a suicide under those very lights.
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