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She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Myn Got! haanging runs in some families, Muntmeester. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. ’ ‘But what of justice?’ asked Lucilla, evidently dazed.
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