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Updated: May 28, 2025
The white sickle of the road; a light at the top of the sickle; the Aldersons' house. A man was crossing from the moor-track to the road. He carried a stack of heather on his shoulder: Jem's brother, Ned. He stopped and stared. He was thicker and slower than Jem; darker haired; fuller and redder in the face; he looked at you with the same little, kind, screwed-up eyes.
Standing still you were moved, you were drawn nearer and nearer to its enclosing heart. She swung off the road beyond the sickle to the last moor-track that led to the other side of Karva. She came back by the southern slope, down the twelve fields, past the four farms. The farm of the thorn-tree, the farm of the ash, the farm of the three firs and the farm all alone. Four houses.
"I wouldn't mind a bit if I hadn't been such a brute to little Mamma. Why are we such brutes to her?" He had turned in the narrow moor-track and faced her with his question: "Why?" "'Forward, the Light Brigade! Was there a man dismayed? Not though the soldier knew Someone had blundered'" Hunderd blundered. Did Tennyson really call hundred hunderd?
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