The world isn't real yet; she hasn't comparisons by which to govern her acts. 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. . "Good night, Master. Luckily, she was bereft of consciousness, and was thus spared the additional misery of witnessing what afterwards befell him.
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