She burst into tears. She started beating at Aunt Beast like a small child having a tantrum. Her tears rained down her face and spattered Aunt Beast’s fur. Aunt Beast stood quietly against the assault. “All right, I’ll go!” Meg sobbed. “I know you want me to go!” “We want nothing from you that you do without grace,” Mrs Whatsit said, “or that you do without understanding.” Meg’s tears stopped as abruptly as they had started. “But I do understand.” She felt tired and unexpectedly peaceful. Now the coldness that, under Aunt Beast’s ministrations, had left her body had also left her mind. She
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