She went out into the hall, where she met the Jedsons in their kimonos. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. Winds returned, the gardens withered, and roses would not bloom. Behind them stalked Blueskin, enveloped in a rough great-coat, called—appropriately enough in this instance,—a wrap-rascal. Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested.
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