‘Grace à vous, I am compelled to rescue myself. Henceforth, I utterly throw off the yoke you have laid upon me. There’s a great gulf opened, and nobody’s got any plans what to do with us. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. I want to make you feel that here is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow. But Jack was too well versed in the geography of the place to attempt either of them. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest.
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