“No, she just worries that I’ll go Satanic and start chomping the heads off of bats and mice or something. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. "Pick up that blade, Nab," vociferated Wild, finding himself hotly pressed, "and stab him. Her cargo is nearly shipped.
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