He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. 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.
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