The moisture from the sea was constant, and she spent countless hours staring at the sea from the west tower, the rise and fall of waves. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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