Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. She closed her eyes as if asleep, her hands folded neatly on her abdomen. All at once Melusine remembered Pottiswick, and the errand he had run. "Farewell!" blubbered the executioner's wife, pressing his hand to her lips. Tomorrow you will feel like a freed woman. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples.
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