If a cart were coming, or those labourers in the field had heard, escape was impossible. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. She creaked, groaned, and rattled; but that was only her way of yawning when she awoke. He began shoveling dirt over the bodies. The rogue took everything we had. His tone was rough, almost threatening.
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