“Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. Of all the amazing coincidences. She even touched lightly on her father’s unreasonableness. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. ‘But what will happen to Lucia? Are we to kill her?’ ‘Of course not.
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