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795c792 She fed him scraps from her ragbag because words were all that were left now. Perhaps he could use them to pay the ferryman. The air rippled and shimmered. Time narrowed to a pinpoint. It was about to happen. death edward-thomas gerard-manley-hopkins john-keats kate-atkinson literary-allusions literary-quotes william-blake william-wordsworth quotes beautiful william-shakespeare dying Kate Atkinson
2e49600 Amelia envisaged that between York and the royal-infested Scottish Highlands there was a grimy wasteland of derelict cranes and abandoned mills and betrayed, yet still staunch, people. Oh and moorland, of course, vast tracts of brooding landscape under lowering skies, and across this heath strode brooding, lowering men intent on reaching their ancestral houses, where they were going to fling open doors and castigate orphaned yet resolute governesses. Or -- preferably -- the brooding, lowering men were on horseback, black horses with huge muscled haunches, glistening with sweat -- humor gothic-romance heath york literary-allusions scotland jane-eyre Kate Atkinson