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. “They have no plans for us. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. He turned just in time to see Lucilla exchange an amused look with Hilary.
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