It’s just to feel—one owns one’s self. "Oh! that I could live to see it," gasped Jonathan. "Where's Thames?" he hastily inquired. He seemed too noisy. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. The skipper obeyed, and in another moment, they swept through the narrow lock. Lucia had never been so happy, so content. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece.
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