"More than three hundred weight, Sir," replied the man. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. “Perhaps. ’ ‘Je m’en moque. It’s made up of things as small as the diameter of hairs and big as life and death.
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