They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. I spent many happy days there. Winny, this is the last night I shall pass beneath your father's roof.
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