So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. “She finds lying up so much very irksome. This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’ you know. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. Your mother arrived, and she knew me for what I was, she whispered to me curses against werewolves and vampires when I was alone in a room with her.
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