The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. “I just came to you and put myself in your hands. The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning.
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