Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. Oh, don't worry. Sir Rowland witnessed these proceedings like one stupified. "There's the house," said Jack, pointing to a pretty cottage, the small wooden porch of which was covered with roses and creepers, with a little trim garden in front of it. 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.
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