\" She whirled around by instinct, frightening the boy who she had borrowed the pencil from. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. We LIKED each other well enough.
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