The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. Anticipating this, Wild avoided the shot by suddenly, ducking his head.
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