The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. She meant to leave anyway, or so she would tell herself later. It was perfectly logical. She gathered up the chain, revealing a locket which had lain hidden in her bosom. ‘Be quiet, man,’ snapped Hilary, watching the Frenchman go by with the lad after him. The buboes broke and God took Lucia's mother. He looked eager and flushed and troubled.
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