” Michelle looked away. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. ” “Do what?” “Oh!—anything. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. What other reason could there be? It’s more complex, but it’s better.
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