That knot also would be cut. Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. She was by his side. “He dissembles,” he said. ‘Laisse-moi!’ Impatience swamped him. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. She had been obliged to wait all morning for the opportunity to talk to Martha, who chose always to retire to her cell for the period of recreation that preceded afternoon prayers.
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