At first, all Mary can think is that the shining woman has fallen down.
The shining woman has fallen, and the light has gone out; and she can hardly see Dickon's face in the unnatural dark, and when the hand falls on her shoulder Mary's first impression is not that of a friend.
Her head whips around, her hair flying behind her and tangling in the branches of her tree.
"Is she dead?" she demands.
Her voice is high, piercing with fear and anger, and yet still hardly audible over the howling of the wind.
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The shining woman has fallen, and the light has gone out; and she can hardly see Dickon's face in the unnatural dark, and when the hand falls on her shoulder Mary's first impression is not that of a friend.
Her head whips around, her hair flying behind her and tangling in the branches of her tree.
"Is she dead?" she demands.
Her voice is high, piercing with fear and anger, and yet still hardly audible over the howling of the wind.
"Is the Lady dead?"