He removed his cocked hat and came towards her. And then suddenly—a relief. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly.
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