I do not think that I have the Bohemian spirit at all. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. “Like a stab. “Tell him to drive—anywhere,” she exclaimed. She could not be more than twenty; and though want and other suffering had done the work of time, had wasted her frame, and robbed her cheek of its bloom and roundness, they had not extinguished the lustre of her eyes, nor thinned her raven hair. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you.
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