She accomplished it with the aid of the young fellow’s hand, and stepped down into the road, glancing up at the house as she did so. Wily little devil she is. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. He had “put his foot down,” and said she must not go. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk.
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