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“You are late,” she murmured. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. For every Eden, there will be a serpent; for every sheepfold, there will be a wolf. He's nice. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. “I can get you,” Mr. Mark stayed away from Lucy, which was just as Sheila liked it. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. She left for good after he fell asleep. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. She still kicked herself for it.
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