These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Lucia confined herself to her quarters, wondering when they would flee to the country as so many other houses had done. A neighbor stopped by as the day wore on, causing her to duck and cower as he rang the doorbell over and over. "Why do you laugh?" he asked. Melusine had confessed this morning, that she had borrowed his horse, that Jack had met with his accident through her fault.
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