A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. ‘Until today. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. ‘He is not in England, you understand. She awoke and found herself home amid a pile of three bodies, one of which she recognized as a former denizen of the household. .
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