She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. ’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. They then swiftly mounted the stairs, and stopped before the audience-chamber. “So she must have had you fairly young, right?” Lucy nodded again.
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