This was to pass under the arch, along the narrow ledge of the starling, and, if possible, attain the eastern platform, where, protected by the bridge, he would suffer less from the excessive violence of the gale. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. Each wing had a small cupola; and, in the centre of the pile rose a larger dome, surmounted by a gilded ball and vane.
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