\"I'll meet you at your locker after school. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. "He's a base, deceitful, tyrannical, hoary-headed libertine—that's what he is. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. She would never return to her father; that resolution was final. She was silent. With a cry of distress, she dropped the pistol and flew after him, racing past him to the door. And nothing to tell her where to begin. You’re a lady. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. My trouble is with your sister.
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