She did not see Sebastian turn towards the boy and his family, but every hair on the back of her neck stood up rigidly. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. And their monasteries and convents are still not officially permitted to exist here.
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