” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited. \"I don't want to hurt you. Nobody ever called me John, that I recollect. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. She loped forward on unnaturally long legs and arms that swung loosely. Pilgrim's Progress, The Life of Martin Luther and Alice in Wonderland (the only fairy-story she had been permitted to read) were the sum total of her library.
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