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‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life. Vite, I pray you. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. She slipped past the servants, her soft roe-skin shoes unheard on the old stone. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. “Oh, Lucy. A forgotten island beyond the ship lanes, where that grim Hand would falter and move blindly in its search for him! From what he had read, there wouldn't be much to do; and in the idle hours he could write. Come, come, be reasonable, and listen to me.
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