To perdition with them all. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Lucy sat beside him. The Ragged Edge.
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