Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. I wonder. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. The wedding day came shortly after she turned fourteen. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack.
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