‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. She had not gone by the name Lucy during those years but instead had called herself “Mary Lucia Iovelli”. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Why? Because he knew that when these two young people left, the island would become intolerable. " "Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black.
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