I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. Only first you must find the lantern and light it again and leave it here, near the door, for me to find. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie. Through no fault of her own.
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