What of Gosse, whom those soldiers had allowed to escape? Hiding—or perhaps gone. The one profession, the one decent profession, I mean, for a woman—except the stage— is teaching, and there we trample on one another. It isn’t. The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. “An Oracle you are! Sebastian never told me he’d made one!” Rhea screamed a scream that was part horror and part laughter. Nothing has been touched since.
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