Michelle was laid onto the back seat, her head cradled in Lucy’s lap. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. ‘Oh, are there? You are not quite alone in these adventures of yours, I take it.
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