She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. He noted that she was fully dressed, that her hair was carefully done, that there was a knotted ribbon around her throat. " To-morrow! She never beheld it.
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