I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. " He departed, musing. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.
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