As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. Ruth loved him. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away.
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