The lady murmured briefly to her husband, and then tucked her hand into Alderley’s arm. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. It was. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. ” “Where is your husband?” Anna asked. In any event, I would not have let her escape me so easily.
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