But his words were borne away by the driving wind. Mother had forced Lucy to memorize the ingredients of the stews, fairly beating them into her, spanking her backside when she rebelled. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. Your maid would not be of the least protection. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song.
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