" "At least, I will hope so," returned Winifred. 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. ’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. “Are you going on again this winter with that scientific work of yours? It’s an instance of heredity, I suppose.
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