Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face. " "Why not?" rejoined Mrs. "Where are the boys?" "In the hall. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet.
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