Nervously he pulled alongside the dilapidated oncewhite farmhouse. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. F. Destruction everywhere marked its course. 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. The fellow is little better than a lunatic. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it.
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