She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. She had better escape if she can. 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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