Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors. She flung aside every plan she had in life, every discretion. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. Do not believe it, Madam. Lucy replied, \"My hair has a mind of its own.
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