Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. She staggered to the fireplace and thrust it into the heart of the dying flames.
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