The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. "What's to be done next?" cried Blueskin, returning to Rachel, who was standing with Edgeworth Bess near the door. Of the vast mass of these impressions Ann Veronica could make nothing at the time; there they were—Fact! She stored them away in a mind naturally retentive, as a squirrel stores away nuts, for further digestion. Sometimes I think I’ll miss them and I start to cry, but I’m ready to have a life of my own. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. At the open door stood a young man in a rich garb with a mask on his face, who was encouraging the mob by words and gestures. " "It does so," said Wild.
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