You can't use the excuse of flu to hide in your room. She was drifting through it, completely part of it; calm, open to every sensation. I sat there and cried for a short while, but when my bruises stopped hurting I went down the steps and found they led down to another cellar or a corridor. Charli! she cried, rushing forward and flinging her arms round Charlotte's neck.
It wasn't so late. But I can't—even though I can see no way for this to end except in pain. *** Charlotte walked along the corridor into the upper hall, too stricken to weep. I did not mean to act cruelly.
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