" "Ah. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. One post-midnight meeting, she could stand it no longer. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin. Here, it might be anything at all.
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