” She said in Lucy’s direction. I can’t stand it. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. Their future would be glorious; he saw it in their eyes; he saw it in the beauty of their young heads.
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