A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. ’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. They’re too free for their innocence or too innocent for their freedom. “Act three.
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