She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. A slow heavy thumping started up in Melusine’s chest, and she scarcely took in the astonished silence in those present in the room. Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. “Next door,” said a spectacled young person of seventeen or eighteen, with an impatient indication of the direction.
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