The noose was at its throat when I called for help. “It would have been rash and unwise,” she said at the end of a meditation. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. She ought to have leapt back on guard. “How could he call except in your absence, as you are never at home in the afternoon. How she had coveted her mother’s beauty and sought to emulate it, if only to please her.
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