His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself. 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. A vast indifference settled down upon him.
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