But the twins were so fucked over at that point they were zombies. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. The perfume was the only one she ever used. It was still possible the child might be in safety. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. The sense of publicity, of people coming and going about them, kept them both unemotional. It was bad luck to go to Canongate.
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