“Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. It must be sent home this evening. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. ” “Your knowledge of our ways,” he murmured “is profound. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. "I will," answered the prisoner.
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