‘I do not know your Gérard. As he gazed down into the courts of the prison, he could not help shuddering, lest a false step might precipitate him below. " "Meaning that I don't belong anywhere, in heaven or on earth?" "Meaning that you must cut off the wing or grow another to mate it. I have suffered all this. " "But, Lord, man!—don't you ever get lonesome?" "Don't you?" "I'm too busy.
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