. 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. Melusine did not pause, but reached down to grasp the hilt of his sword and lift it. "'Cos there's a gale a-getting up as'll perwent you, young freshwater," replied the tar. His friendship seemed a thing worth having.
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