She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. “Read this, John. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight.
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