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Millicent was a witch, not a squib, and years of stifling spells had made her magic erupt in a random moment, probably, they surmised, from the shock of the thermometer breaking, the loss of her mother, and the low air pressure. "It happens sometimes," they said. "You really shouldn’t have put such a charm on the girl for so long." byte (dinghy) There was no punishment; Millicent was never considered at fault. She did not explain how much she hated Prudence, she did not tell anyone that she wanted Prudence to byte (dinghy) die that day. She did not tell them byte (dinghy) that she knew, at that moment, that she was a witch. She did not tell them that she had wanted to fill Prudence’s lungs with mercury. A funeral service was held for her, that great talent, that beautiful little girl, and a picture from the catalogue was blown up and erected at the front of the chapel. Prudence sat there on a carpeted set wearing a pretty little baby doll dress, twice as large as life.
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