The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. Rhea spun round and sank her teeth into Lucy’s arm. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. You see, it's like this. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. Stop it. But I will go.
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