“Yes,” she said, “that is what we ought to do. Like appendicitis. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean.
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