Standing over the pierced Rhea, Lucy bayed, a long cry that was half-scream and half-howl. Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. “Have you turned him yet?” Michelle whispered hotly, trying not to raise the volume of her voice. Miss Stanley walked round the garden thinking, and presently house and garden reverberated to Ann Veronica’s slamming of the front door.
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