“His back was towards me,” Anna said. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder.
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