She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. And this is not France, you understand. Lady Angela shrugged her shoulders. He carried her in his arms up the steps, like a bride on her honeymoon.
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