The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. ‘No, no, I am convinced your very first theory was right. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. " "Irons—heavy irons—night and day. Lucy could feel blood welling underneath a bump half swelling and already half-healing on her scalp.
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