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Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. Milice,’ Gerald translated. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear.
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