“He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. ” Anna looked for a moment steadily at her sister, whose face was still averted. All the rest of our lives would be together then, Ann Veronica. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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