Wood; "and Blueskin, too. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. " "Surely, you haven't stolen it?" "Stolen's an awkward word. Spurling, half aside. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. And there arose too, a background of shouts.
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