Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. She began at once a hasty readjustment of her hair, while Ramage parleyed with inaudible interrogations. And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of hers was a slender reed on which to lean. ” She stopped.
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