The pavement had been hastily picked up, and heaped across the end of the street, upon which planks, barrels, and other barricades, were laid. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. She was slender, and sometimes she seemed tall, and walked and carried herself lightly and joyfully as one who commonly and habitually feels well, and sometimes she stooped a little and was preoccupied. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. There was plenty of sweet water.
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