There will be no more children in this house, not ever! And if anyone ever tries bringing children into our house again, I shall kill the lot of them. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. ‘What Frenchman would that be, missie? We ain’t let no one escape.
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