It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current, which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. Did you really doubt if I knew?” “No. None at all. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack.
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