“I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. I’m leaving you, and you can’t stop me. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. Perhaps I've been mad all these years; I don't know. Instinct had forced her to create something out of rags to satisfy a mysterious craving.
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