" "Dying!" echoed the knight. She was to have fifteen pounds, and no more. ‘I disgust you, eh? Very well, then. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Me, you may have. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. You’re a piss-poor liar, John.
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