They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. "How?" cried her brother, starting. ” Lucy added, growing weary. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Wily little devil she is. "The Dutchman was right, after all. Rhea became alarmed that she was about to leave. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke.
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