“Lucy!” He whispered into her ear beneath a dusty curtain cloud. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation.
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