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We Will Persuade Him, Be It Possible
It is a nipping and an eager air.
Except, for once, Beatrice Shakespeare Smith was thinking of the weather and not Ariel. With a frigid coastal wind tugging at her hair, she sprinted up the stairs set into the White Cliffs. Questions flitted about her mind on the wings of tiny white moths, all drawn to a central, gleaming hope: the chance to have family—her family—reunited. She rehearsed her query for the Scrimshander as she raced ever higher:
Will you come with us to the theater? I