Maud took out the pillow, untucked the counterpane, folded away three fine woollen blankets and a crocheted shawl, and then lifted out one feather mattress and another, and a straw palliasse. She reached in under this, into the wooden box beneath it, prised up a hinged board and brought out a package, wrapped in fine white linen, tied with tape, about and about and about, like a mummy. There was a silence. Maud stood there, holding on. Roland took a step forward. He knew, he knew, what was wrapped away there. “Probably dolls’ clothes,” said Maud. “Have a look,” said Sir George. “You seemed to
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