She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. ‘I thank you. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way.
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