The expression, however, which would chiefly have interested a beholder, was that of settled and profound melancholy. It probably had its own repulsive oubliette in the bottom, where tiny princesses could fall and break their necks. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done. Free, there is nothing left to her but the canal.
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