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Well,there's not much more to see," Bill said. "Just the usual routine of a building catching fire-smoke, walls of flame,people screaming and stampeding toward the exits,trampling the less fortunate underfoot-you get the picture.The Globe burned to the ground."
"What?" she asked, feeling sick. "I started the fire at the Globe?" Surely burning down the most famous theater in English history would have repercussions across time.
"Oh,don't get all self-important. It was going to happen anyway. If you hadn't burst into flames, the cannon onstage would have misfired and taken the whole place out."
"This is so much bigger than me and Daniel. All those people-"
"Look, Mother Teresa, no one died that night...besides you.No one else even got hurt. Remember that drunk leering at you from the third row? His pants catch on fire.That's the worst of it. Feel better?"
"Not really.Not at all."
"How about this: You're not here to add to your mountain of guilt. Or to change the past.There's a script,and you have your entrances and your exits."
"I wasn't ready for my exit."
"Why not? Henry the Eighth sucks, anyway."
"I wanted to give Daniel hope. I wanted him to know that I would always choose him,always love him.But Lucinda died before I could be sure he understood." She closed her eyes. "His half of our curse is so much worse than mine."
"That's good,Luce!"
"What do you mean? That's horrible!"
"I mean that little gem-that 'Wah, Daniel's agony is infinitely more horrible than mine'-that's what you learned here.The more you understand, the closer you'll get to knowing the root of the curse,and the more liekly it is that you'll eventually find your way out of it.Right?"
"I-I don't know."
"I do. Now come on, you've got bigger roles to play.
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