She had very few clear memories before a particular day in the library, when they had finished one of her first reading lessons. After that night she made it a habit. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. ‘What did you tell Valade?’ ‘Well, when I asked him what he wanted, he told me straight out that he had been told his wife was related to Jarvis Remenham, and he had come to see whoever lived here now that Jarvis was dead.
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