“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. ‘Who the devil is Leonardo?’ demanded Roding impatiently, asking the question that had leapt into the major’s mind. Several men and women were piled there like wood, dead, horribly gored. Ruth came to him directly. Wood cut him short by stating his intention of crossing the river as soon as possible in order to avoid the storm. It was the first expression of the mother's blood.
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