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turning to page one
BERTIE (O.S.)
“I sifted seven thick-stalked
thistles through strong thick
sieves. I sifted seven...”
ELIZABETH (O.S.)
Bertie, isn’t that enough?
BERTIE (O.S.)
I have to keep saying it. This is
your fault.
CHOP! CHOP! CHOP! The sound of an axe.
Fallen trees start to litter the roadside.