“The cold air rushed down over Mannerby from the high moor, and from her window Sarah looked toward the tor, half visible through the cloud which clung around it. It was mysterious, like something seen in a dream and almost forgotten at waking. The ash tree tapped the window and she shivered, moving away to the fireplace. The flames licked gently around the logs and she held her hands out to the warmth. Janie sat on a stool carefully stitching a tear in one of her mistress’s gowns. Sarah sighed ...unhappily and the maid looked up. “Don’t let it upset you so, miss. They’re good folk really. Mannerby’s a kind place.” “Kind! If this is Mannerby being kind, then I shudder to imagine it when the place takes an active dislike to one! I loathe it here already.” Janie swallowed and lowered her eyes again, the needle moving busily in and out of the fine cloth. The ash touched the pane again and Sarah jumped. “Why, oh why, doesn’t someone cut down that dreadful tree?” “It was old Mrs.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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