“Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. She had not at first the power for concealment. The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it. I am an independent sort of person,” she continued, “and I am engaged in an attempt to earn my own living. . There one is! The same stuff still! One has a craving in one’s blood, a craving roused, cut off from its redeeming and guiding emotional side.
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