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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. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. Brendon’s guests,” she said, “and I scarcely think it would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney. Life is two things, that’s how I see it; two things mixed and muddled up together.
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