My son went down after his death. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. Jonathan shook his head. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. Englishmen also certainly.
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