She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. I am determined to fight my own little battle with the world —there must be a place for me somewhere, and I mean to find it. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. Lots of us are like that. “I promise, Lucy.
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