“Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. "'Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Little did I imagine at the time that it was my own father to whom he referred. “I’m very shy, and I would like to opt out if you don’t mind. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her.
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