“But I wish,” she said, “I had some idea what I was really up to. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle. ” She finished her breakfast and strolled out across the garden with the letters still in her hand. "Your mother is dead," interposed Wild, scowling. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. Then, if you weren’t looking, he’d get five feet closer.
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