She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Kneebone, then, sat down to await the arrival of his expected guest. He, next, seized the unlucky jailer, and forced him along, while Blueskin expedited his movements by administering a few kicks behind. She wished she had not stood up.
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