The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. “Very well,” said her father. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. But that doesn’t alter the fact that there IS innocence. The students passed Juicy Fruit sticks and notes back and forth, bartering various forms of social currency. No matter what they do, always someone to bolster them up, to lend them money, and to coddle them. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. So I ran away, blindly, knowing nothing of the world outside.
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