They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her. She felt much better. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. But be patient, I am your fast friend.
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