The coolies proceeded at a swinging, mincing trot, which gave to the suspended seat a dancing action similar to that of a suddenly agitated hangingspring of a birdcage. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. Lucy’s bright tones pursued her.
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