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 observed a man walking on the opposite side of the way and looking toward her. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. “Hi. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them. Lucy stepped inside.
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