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‘I gradually learned to check the violent expressions of my despair, observing that the giving utterance to them occasioned me to be more closely watched and restrained by the people about me, and nothing was now so grateful to me as being left quite alone, where I might hear only the hollow breaking of the waves against the cliffs, or the cries of the innu- merable sea fowl, which now covered every rock within my sight and often appeared like living clouds floating above me.’

The Works of Charlotte Smith. The Young Philosopher, Volume II


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