Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. "Well, that beats all I ever heard of!" roared Blueskin. She did not have the power of men.
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