The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. Then it dawned. She felt her canines growing. After all, why need one look down.
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