He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured. ’ Lucy was silent for a space, once again wearing that inscrutable expression. And don’t talk until we’re well out of earshot. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. He pressed his lips to her with a much greater force than she had anticipated. “That’s HIM,” said Ann Veronica, in sound, idiomatic English.
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