They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. “My brother’s room when he comes home. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. I almost wish we hadn't come. We aren’t afraid; we don’t bother.
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