" "It is," answered Wood. ’ I wanted, as I have never wanted before, to take you up, to make you mine, to carry you off and set you apart from all the strain and turmoil of life. At least, you are one, and I am disguised like one. ” “It would suit me. ’ You used to declare that you hated the name. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing.
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