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CHAPTER VII |
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THE KEY OF THE GARDEN
npWO days after this, when Mary opened her ■*■ eyes she sat upright in bed immediately, and called to Martha.
" Look at the moor! Look at the moor! " The rain-storm had ended and the gray mist and clouds had been swept away in the night by the wind. The wind itself had ceased and a brilliant, deep blue sky arched high over the moorland. Never, never had Mary dreamed of a sky so blue. In India skies were hot and blazing; this was of a deep cool blue which almost seemed to sparkle like the waters of some lovely bottomless lake, and here and there, high, high in the arched blue-ness floated small clouds of snow-white fleece. The far-reaching world of the moor itself looked softly blue instead of gloomy purple-black or awful dreary gray.
" Aye," said Martha with a cheerful grin. " Th' storm's over for a bit. It does like this at this time o' th' year. It goes off in a night like it was pretendin' it had never been here an' never
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