I am no one, Gérard. ‘I am far from imagining anything of the kind. Nor had Jack been idle all this time. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. “That’s all very well when one isn’t the material experimented upon,” Ann Veronica had remarked. By this action, Lucy already knew what the answer was. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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