“Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. Never mind. The place, in which they stood, was a small entrance-chamber, cut off, like the segment of a circle, from the main apartment, (of which it is needless to say it originally constituted a portion,) by a stout wooden partition. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape. Find that boy. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. What an adventure! Of course, you'll bark your shins here and there and hit your funnybone; but the newness of everything will be something of a compensation.
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