Or perhaps my father once. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. They are not your children, they never were. ” Michelle mulled over Lucy’s words thoughtfully. A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. They almost made me feel like they were mine. Anna held out her hand, and he paused. ’ ‘I like that,’ Gerald protested. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness.
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