’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. "We went through your belongings. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. ” “Did I?” she said. She would ignore him. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. It’s my other side of the moon. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs.
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