“Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. " "You're a philosopher, too. She remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. ‘What’s more, I wouldn’t blame her. . ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. But also this must not go on. “Does a bear shit in the woods?” He said.
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