‘Yes, miss. Wood. It’s not fair to you. I knew it. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. What happened? Did you turn me?” “Yes, my love. Then a surge of rage welled up. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Together they made their painful way to the door, not even checking, in the effort this cost both, on what Gosse might be doing.
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