‘She may well try to go back. I tried to get across the terrace and onto the bridge to introduce myself, but the crowds did not part and I lost you. She has no proof—yet. Still, in spite of her glances and gestures, Mr. Gina, the eleven year old, just couldn’t take it and she ran away. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals.
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