Sepulchre's clock struck eight. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. Wood. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. ” Michelle mulled over Lucy’s words thoughtfully. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. His fingers closed upon her hand. . I’d come back from the ends of the earth. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside.
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