‘It does not matter to me if he comes or no, madame. Jack was not half your age when he died. Only she sent me a message, and together we found a cottage for her to stay at. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. She shuddered, adding confidentially, ‘You wouldn’t get me in there now, mind.
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