She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. The streets were full of colour. 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 moon had arisen, and everything could be as plainly distinguished as during the day. "Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. ‘Because I love you.
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