Stanley almost liked Ramage. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. She breathed deeply, and he breathed sympathetically. Trees were torn up by the roots; many houses were levelled to the ground; others were unroofed; the leads on the churches were ripped off, and "shrivelled up like scrolls of parchment.
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