Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. The baby boy was delivered in a sea of black blood, born dead and blue, and strangled by plague. Jack seemed glad enough to rest, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. ‘Trespasses,’ supplied Gerald. No matter.
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