It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Lucy grabbed the hand cannon, stuffing it with powder, nearly missing a swing of the sword meant for her neck. But a total stranger, a man you never saw twentyfour hours ago! It can't be thought of. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. Soon they came to treat Lucy almost as mother, pulling hard at her brown curls and laughing delightedly as they sprang back into their spiral shape.
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