“Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. I don't care how soon he learns that he has lost his adopted son. His assistance came too late. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. . “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. There would be no way of keeping her police questioning a secret from the entire neighborhood. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. Dump popped his head into the cage. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood.
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