She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. She can't last long. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost immediately it was turned out. ” “I’m so glad.
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