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158 sumach, of nosegays of blood-red wild leaves, of berries and rose-haws, of stripped mahogany and silver twigs.

Jule sat close to Hannah. Their eyes, when they did not run out over the marsh, were fixed upon each other; his gaze abstract, as if it gleaned then from her sunken, unlighted face her wisdom and her peace; the dying woman's wistful and proud, who entrusted her existence, from that moment, to his thought.



