‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. We are nuns. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. Perhaps it was loneliness. Lucy vomited onto the floor at the sight of her mother dying, the black spots expanding across her corpse. Sebastian administered bitter tonics to her, fluids she could not taste with her swollen tongue. "I knew he would," replied the Amazon.
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