1 I only drove over it in the dark.
2 It was quite dark when she awakened again.
3 She could see nothing, in fact, but a dense darkness on either side.
4 "I thought perhaps it always rained or looked dark in England," Mary said.
5 When he stopped and spoke to her his dark eyes looked almost soft and kind.
6 The corridor looked very long and dark, but she was too excited to mind that.
7 There was one part of the wall where the creeping dark green leaves were more bushy than elsewhere.
8 Howsoever carefully she looked she could see nothing but thickly growing, glossy, dark green leaves.
9 Mary asked no more questions but waited in the darkness of her corner, keeping her eyes on the window.
10 On and on they drove through the darkness, and though the rain stopped, the wind rushed by and whistled and made strange sounds.
11 Sometimes they were pictures of dark, curious landscapes, but oftenest they were portraits of men and women in queer, grand costumes made of satin and velvet.
12 When he traveled about, darkness so brooded over him that the sight of him was a wrong done to other people because it was as if he poisoned the air about him with gloom.
13 Such nice clear places were made round them that they had all the breathing space they wanted, and really, if Mistress Mary had known it, they began to cheer up under the dark earth and work tremendously.
14 The carriage lamps shed a yellow light on a rough-looking road which seemed to be cut through bushes and low-growing things which ended in the great expanse of dark apparently spread out before and around them.
15 And though the robin did not answer, because his beak was occupied, Mary knew that when he flew away with his twig to his own corner of the garden the darkness of his dew-bright eye meant that he would not tell their secret for the world.
16 Mary told him her story about the midnight wuthering of the wind which had wakened her and about the faint far-off sounds of the complaining voice which had led her down the dark corridors with her candle and had ended with her opening of the door of the dimly lighted room with the carven four-posted bed in the corner.
17 She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived.
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