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A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. Jonathan, in all probability, knows nothing of these packets; and their production may serve to intimidate him. There was a lapse of time, an interval of blackness; then he found his hand in hers and she was leading him at a run up the side of the mountain. It wailed at Lucy, chubby arms reaching towards her, pleading. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A.
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