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Unformatted text preview: lanation, Michael. No one contests it." "Trickster always," said Michael. "You sent her nurses away. You sent the guards away. So clever. They believed you, Father Ashlar, or did you use some other name?" Lasher gave a long, slow, bitter smile. "Father Ashlar," he whis- pered, running his pink tongue along his lip and then closing his lips quietly. For one instant, Michael saw Rowan in him, saw the resem- blance as he had seen on Christmas Day. The fine cheeks, the forehead, even the tender line of the long eyes. But in the depth of the color and in the bright open look to them, they were Michael's eyes. "She doesn't know she is alone now," said Lasher solemnly. He spoke the words slowly, eyes moving again around the vast dark room. "What are nurses anymore to her? She does not know any longer who stands by her, who weeps for her, who loves her, who sheds tears. She has lost the child which was inside her. And there will be no more. All that will happen now will be without her. Her story is told...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10