They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. They are our food, Lucia, nothing more. From his wallet he brought forth a yellow letter. ” Lucy chuckled at the sacrilegious comment, though it was a very old one. To get behind that impenetrable curtain, to learn why she hated her island. I love you still, Anna, but life holds other things than the love of man for woman.
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