Perhaps that was why Sheila began to observe Lucy, because both of them were poignantly aware of Lucy’s otherness. And so, here we are, right back from where we started. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. There are boats on the lake and shady depths and wildernesses of pine-wood. Not entirely. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated.
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