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384 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1987
Lark had watched Donna Bird for several years as she floated around the quadrangle, looking like some sort of court jester, always arguing and waving her arms about, always surrounded by groups of the important students—the libertarian who wore no shoes and tied his khaki trousers with a piece of rope and wrote lewd columns for the newspaper; the architecture student who was caught by a security guard on the floor of the library stacks with the psychology fresher; the leader of the student conservative club who was known only by his initials. (p.22)
"Good for you," he said, "fighting the system like that. Butter belongs to the people. Butter and guns and art. They should be free, and if they're not, the people should take them." (p.24)
"It's called preservation," said Donna quickly. "Sometimes the natives just threw away the stuff, their funerary carvings and so on. The Rockefellers and my father just wanted to preserve art. Art is what matters." (p.27-8)
"She's young and inexperienced," said Tom to Donna, at the same time patting Lark's hand in a fatherly way. He turned back to Lark. "Donna should know," he said gently, like a doctor at an invalid's bedside. "After all, she's the one who knows them all. Say," and he turned back to Donna Bird, "what say we take her in hand." (p.28)