By that time it seemed to them they had lived together twenty years. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. Suffer me to precede you. ‘Oh, we was always in there, miss,’ admitted Joan, moving closer. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. Lucy thought of herself as belonging to Sebastian whether she liked it or not.
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