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Constance turned her face a fra about ten seconds to hfocus

“When,” I said, “was the last tiift of flowers to a marble sculpture? To a statue that never saers, never saw you, but lived inside the marble, inside all that silence, as the last time?”

A single tear dropped froht eye

“I used to go every week I was always hoping she’d just co andthanked She made me feel I was dead”

Her head moved frame by frame back in the other direction toward a memory of last year or some year before

“I think,”Crumley said,“it’s time for some more flowers Yes?”

“I don’t know”

“Yes, you do How about … Hollyhock House?”

Quickly, Constance Rattigan julanced at the sea, sprinted for the surf, and dived in

“Don’t!” I yelled

For I was suddenly afraid Even for fine swiive back

I ran to the surf-line and started to shuck offwater like a seal and shaking like a dog, exploded froed in When she hit the hard, wet sand she stopped and threw up It popped out of herdown at the stuff on the surf-line as the tide drifted it away

“I’ll be damned,” she said, curiously “That hairball must’ve been in there all those years!”

She turned to lookback into her cheeks She flicked her fingers atsea-rain on my face, as if to freshen me

“Does swi,” I pointed at the ocean, “always make you well?”