They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him. “You wouldn’t. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her. Just now the waterchestnuts….
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