Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. ‘Because I’m a female,’ declared Lucilla unanswerably.
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