“I wonder,” said Ramage, “that more girls don’t think as you do and want to strike out in the world. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. Her mind had been and was full of the thought of Capes, a huge generalized Capes-lover. 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. "Oh gracious! he's lost. I know what I am doing better than you do.
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