"Ilsa Hermann was dying now herself--to get rid of her. Liesel could see it somewhere in the way she hugged the robe a little tighter. The clumsiness of sorrow still kept her at close proximity, but clearly, she wanted this to be over. "Tell your mama," she spoke again. Her voice was adjusting now, as one sentence turned into two. "That we're sorry." She started shepherding the girl toward the door. Liesel felt it now in the shoulders. The pain, the impact of final rejection. That's it? she asked internally. You just boot me out?"