But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. But in the appendix of the dictionary she had discovered magic names—Hugo, Dumas, Thackeray, Hawthorne, Lytton. ” She was cowed by the three dead faces that seemed to scream at her to restore order by any means possible, even if it meant forgetting the children of the whore and all the events that had led to her unfortunate situation.
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