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'Not to grieve a kind master I learnt to be less touchy; and, for the space of half a year, the gunpowder lay as harmless as sand, because no fire came near to explode it.' pg 98

‘For a moment I thought I heard his footsteps behind me, the grip of his hand on my arm, and I flinched. But I would not have heard his footsteps on the thick carpet, and there was no touch on my arm, there was only the force of my imagination.’