She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. It's only right that his people should know where he is and what has happened to him.
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