A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. She could feel her face turning beet red. We will go to Ostend by the early morning boat and choose a hiding place from there. ” “You have not seen the evening paper?” “No.
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