She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. " "So you think," muttered Jack, between his ground teeth. 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. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday.
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