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. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. "He has not the power—perhaps not the will to do so. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen.
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