Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. Like the Castle, which it resembled in all respects except that it was destitute even of a barrack-bedstead, the Red Room was reserved for state-prisoners, and had not been occupied since the year 1716, when the jail, as has before been mentioned, was crowded by the Preston rebels. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. The end of the world seemed at hand. So, very carefully, he raised her in his arms and carried her to her bed.
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