CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Capes became rigid and adhesive. There will be no more children in this house, not ever! And if anyone ever tries bringing children into our house again, I shall kill the lot of them.
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