You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face.
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