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. ” “There’s art,” said Ann Veronica, “and writing. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. ‘Help yourself, Hilary. " At the mention of the latter occurrence, a dark cloud gathered upon the stranger's brow. The conversation turned towards the subject of the Diedermayer’s many European vacations.
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